


Circles (A Stydia Martinski Love Story)

by EideticGirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Kind of AU, Loss of Virginity, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EideticGirl/pseuds/EideticGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has always had a crush on Lydia, but knows- for better or worse- that she's out of his league.  But with Jackson gone off to London, and their Senior year about to begin, Lydia is single for the first time since middle school, and she is spending (and enjoying) time with Stiles.  When a secret that threatens this new friendship is revealed, our favourite sidekicks-turned-heroes will have to confront their own emotions and figure out what it means for their future together as friends-- or maybe even more.</p><p>This story is slightly AU, as it disregards anything after 3A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I

The First Kiss

 

Stiles Stillinski was fourteen when he got his first kiss.  He had meditated on it often, and had decided that even though Scott had had his at twelve, Stiles’ was-- from the descriptions Scott had given-- much better and less disgusting.  It had been at one of the first high-school style parties he had ever been to.  Of course there was no alcohol, but games of Truth or Dare, Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes In Heaven had all been in full swing two hours into the night, and the parents of the host had hidden away upstairs and left a room full of hormone-ridden teenagers unattended.  The summer was almost over, and the boy had decided to combine his birthday with a back-to-school bash to help reconnect the freshman class.  Stiles had secretly thought that there was no way in hell that class unity could ever exist without the decimation of a few certain individuals, but had said nothing to Scott, as his best friend was actually excited about attending.

“Come on, man!  We can make some more friends and finally have a good year,” Scott had said to him.

“Scott, buddy, you say that every time we go to a party.  The only way we are going to make friends with those people is if we grow a money tree and work out how to buy a cool factor, okay?”

But Stiles had reluctantly agreed to attend despite the certainty he had that there was no way that Scott was going to get what he wanted from the people in their grade.  Scott had dropped the subject after that and they had resumed their intense Halo marathon, only pausing for bathroom and food breaks.

 

The party was now looming directly on the horizon, and there was less then 24 hours before the boys were going to be entering the ‘line of fire’ as Stiles liked to call it.  Scott had called him two hours ago and asked him to come over with the pretense of gaming.  Stiles had willingly agreed, only to find Scott in front of his cupboard in only a pair of plaid boxers trying to find a suitable outfit for the party.  Stiles had seen this sight before- in fact, the boys had been streaking on dares more than once- but the line between Scott’s eyes told Stiles that Scott was actually worried about tomorrow night.  Stiles had acted in typical fashion, and pushed Scott out of the way, grabbed Scott’s favourite pair of blue jeans; an olive green button down and a pair of Nike’s and said, “try that on, love it and stop worrying.  They don’t know you at all, you didn’t do anything embarrassing in middle school and you’re a good guy.  Stop worrying and put on some pants.  There’s a new release I want to watch and we are going to the video store to get it right now.”  Scott had smiled at him, checked the outfit out and then pulled on some clothes, grabbing his helmet from by his lacrosse stick and pushing Stiles out of his bedroom before starting down the stairs.

 

***

 

Stiles and Scott had walked through the door about half an hour after the official start time, but there had been others arriving too so they simply placed their presents on the table indicated and snagged a seat on the best looking couch, settling in on what Stiles thought would simply be a night of being ignored by most of the people in attendance.  Half an hour later he was bored and Scott was chattering to an acquaintance who had taken a seat on some recently available space.  Stiles was considering turning to Scott and asking to leave early, but he knew that Scott had been looking forward to the party all week and he was determined not to do that to his friend.  Instead, he sucked it up and steeled his Adderall-induced patience and started to people watch.  This was a long ingrained habit for Styles when there was nothing else to do and he actually had some patience stored away to just sit and think.  

 

People danced, laughed and joked while Stiles sat and waited- though he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.  His face was turned towards the archway that lead to the kitchen when he saw the flash of the strawberry blonde hair he was so attuned to.  She was in pale blue, like the colour of a clean pool on a sunny day, and Stiles’ eyes were drawn to the small, pert breasts she had grown over the summer and her long, creamy legs which ended in a pair of silver heels.  There was no doubt that the summer had only changed Lydia Martin for the better.  Stiles was completely in love with her and the new smattering of freckles on her nose only served the purpose of alluring him deeper into his adoration.  She held a drink in one hand and she and a pretty brunette were twined at the elbow with the other arm.  As Stiles watched, the circle of girls around her burst into laughter while Lydia smiled, popping the sweet dimples in her cheeks and covering her cheeks with a stunning, pale pink blush.  Stiles couldn’t tear his eyes away.  He turned to talk to Scott, but he discovered that he was alone on the couch, and spotted Scott across the room with the boy he had been talking to earlier and a group of girls.  Scott looked entirely at ease and the smile he was holding told Stiles that he was interested in the girl who was addressing him.  Considering his options, Stiles decided that there was only one thing for it-- he needed a soda.  If he had to endure sitting on a couch while Scott chatted up a girl he was going to do it with caffeine in his system.  Damn the Adderall.

 

***

 

Wading through the sea of hormones, perfume and cologne, Stiles entered the kitchen area where several coolers were holding chilled cans of soda.  He rummaged for a minute and came out with a can of Coke and a Dr. Pepper.  

“Oh is that a Dr. Pepper?” a female voice asked behind him.

Stiles turned to find the brunette who had linked arms with Lydia earlier smiling at him.  Smiling back involuntarily, Stiles held out the drink to her.

“Thanks so much.  It’s the only soda I can stomach and I didn’t think there were any left,” she said to Stiles, cracking the top and taking a small sip.

“Glad to be of service, fair maiden.  The worst thing is being the last to get to the drinks and all that’s left is boring lemonade or some gross orange flavored drink everyone’s avoided,” Stiles’ mouth ran away with him.

The girl, however, smiled-- obviously unperturbed-- and said, “I’m Cassandra, but everyone calls me Cass.  What’s your name?”

“You want to know my name?  I mean, I’m Stiles,” Stiles’ cheeks flushed red but Cassandra simply giggled and asked him to come and hang out with her friends.  Stiles stammered for a second before taking her offered hand as they wound their way through the crowd back into the large entertainment room.  Cassandra pulled him up next to her in a small circle of boys and girls, and Stiles drew in a breath.  Across the circle from him was Lydia, looking even more beautiful up close.  

“Everyone, this is Stiles.  Stiles this is Kate, Adam, Beatrix-- she likes Bea for short, Lydia, Jackson, Danny, and Kelly,” Cassandra introduced him to the group.  Stiles smiled at everyone before cracking the top of his drink and taking a gulp to steel his nerves at being this close to Lydia.  The boy Danny was the first to welcome him, smiling and offering out a hand for Stiles to shake, which he did so with all the aplomb he could manage in his current state of tongue paralysis.

“‘Sup,” Jackson said, nodding his head at Stiles.  Stiles returned the nod.  He was unprepared for what happened next.

“You don’t say much, do you?” Lydia asked him, a tiny smile in her eyes as she addressed him.  “You’re not nervous or anything, are you?”

“Me?  Nervous?  No-- what-- no?  Not at all,” Stiles rambled, managing to cover the slightly impulsive response by shaking his head and then trying a forced smile.  Lydia’s smile grew, but she compassionately turned to Beatrix and said, “so, Bea?  Seen anyone you want to play Seven Minutes In Heaven with yet?  What about that guy who was in history last year?”

“He’s gay.  It’s such a loss.  They get all the good ones,” Beatrix sighed with a look of longing.  Danny snickered at this statement, but turned it into a cough when all eyes turned to him.

“Are you okay, man?” Adam questioned him, looking concerned.

“Just swallowed a bit of my drink the wrong way,” Danny pointed at the drink in his hand and turned pointedly to Kelly and started talking class schedules.  Stiles had settled his nerves by now, and tuned out the conversation about raunchy party games and focused in on the body language between Adam and Danny.  Adam kept glancing between Kate-- who he was trying to carry on a conversation with-- and Danny, who seemed to be under a great deal of stress and was pointedly ignoring Adam.  It only took moments for Stiles to work out what had happened-- Danny and Adam were gay.  And in a secret relationship, from the look of things.  Stiles calmly accepted the knowledge he had garnered and tucked it away, respecting the need for privacy and acceptance.  Stiles had never had a problem with homosexuality-- his parents had raised him to be tolerant-- and knowing what he now knew about Adam and Danny didn’t change anything for him.

“And-- sorry what’s you name again?” Stiles looked back at Lydia to find her green eyes directed at him.

“It’s Stiles,” Stiles replied, flushing.

“Well, Stiles, are you up for a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven?  The rest of us are all game, if you are,” Lydia told him, a cheeky smile suggesting that she suspected he wouldn’t want to.  Stiles debated the merits of playing for about three seconds, before turning to Lydia and saying, “Sure.  Let’s play.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows at him before Jackson had started to move the group into one of the other rooms in the house, where there was a cupboard that-- according to Cassandra-- seemed like it had been designed for naughty party games.

 

***

 

Half an hour into the game and Stiles was yet to be chosen by anyone.  Before the game had started, Kelly had explained that they played with slightly different rules than most people.  The standard rules still remained, but one thing was specified in the new rules-- when the time was up, the second person to enter the cupboard was the first to leave so that the person who was first didn’t know who they had kissed.  No one on the outside was able to tell the person in the cupboard who kissed them unless they were the other person in the cupboard.  Kelly said her older brother had made up the rule and that it made the game more mysterious, which was better than some boring, traditional party game.  There had been three combos in the cupboard already, and they were all about to decide who to send in next.  The people who had been the first into the cupboard were automatically disqualified so there were six options left.  Stiles had been staring at his shoes trying to calculate the odds of him being chosen when Kate had looked at him and had said with a wry smile, “Stiles, you’re up.”

Stiles almost jumped in shock, but none the less let the blindfold be placed over his eyes and entered the cupboard.  _This is it.  My first kiss.  Please let it not be like Scott’s.  I don’t like dogs licking my face, much less humans,_ Stiles thought.  Stiles heard the door open, and tiny foot steps moving towards him.

“Where are you?” a female voice whispered.

“Right here,” he heard himself say back.

“Hi,” said the voice.

“Hey,” Stiles replied, smiling a little at the obvious shyness of the girl he was with.

“So,” the girl said, trailing off.

“I think we’re supposed to kiss now.  At least that’s what I’ve heard.  Not that I would know anything about it,” Stiles rambled.

“Have you never kissed someone before?” the girl asked, shocked.

“No.  Never had the opportunity,” Stiles told her, honestly.

“Well, neither have I,” the girl said.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?  How could that be.  Your whole group is known for that” Stiles clarified, shocked.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before because I wanted to wait for the right person.  But I’m nearly fourteen and the person still hasn’t made a move, so I decided to just get it out of the way,” the girl whispered.

“Well, I don’t know if Seven Minutes In Heaven is the most responsible way to have a first kiss.  But it’s kind of nice to know that neither of us have ever kissed anyone before.  It makes it an even playing field,” Stiles decided.

“We should probably just do it then.  They check to make sure something happened,” the girl told him.

“Come here then,” Stiles said, reaching out an arm to find the person in the dark.  His hand came into contact with something warm and soft, and he realised that for the first time in his life his hand was on a girl’s waist.  He felt a tiny hand reach his upper arm and slide up onto his shoulder for some leverage.  

“Are you ready?” Stiles felt a bit silly asking, but he wanted to make sure the girl wasn’t just trying to get something out of the way without thinking.

“Yes.  But thanks for checking.  Most guys would just go for it,” the girl said.  Stiles smiled to himself, and then reached a hand towards where he thought her face would be.  He touched her cheek, and the girl sighed softly.  Stiles leaned down slowly, giving her time to back away if she wanted, but the girl met him halfway, leaning into his hand and pressing her lips to his.  

 

As soon as Stiles’ mouth touched hers, he felt a heat coiling in his stomach.  He had had his lips closed at first, but he opened them slightly, and felt the girl respond.  He moved his mouth delicately over hers, keeping his tongue to himself, but applying more pressure and tilting his head to improve the angle of the kiss.  The girl had opened her lips to him, and her small hand had moved to his neck and was running through the hair at the nape, while her other hand had found his waist and was scrunched into his t-shirt.  It was hot, heady and totally, totally beyond what Stiles had imagined, even with a fourteen year old boy’s imagination.  All too soon, there was a knock on the door, and Stiles heard Cassandra’s voice telling them that their time was up.  He gently closed his lips and pulled back from the kiss, still holding the girl softly in his arms.

“Wow,” he said, clearing his throat slightly.  The girl let out a small giggle, and pulled him closer, giving him a tight hug.

“Thanks.  For not making it awkward.  I really appreciate it,” the girl whispered in his ear, then extricated herself from his arms and opened the cupboard door.

“You’re welcome,” Stiles called after her, several seconds to late.  His brain was running on slow.  The kiss had been mind meltingly enjoyable.  A hand grabbed him and pulled him out of the cupboard.  The blindfold was pulled away from his eyes and he blinked a few times to clear his vision after it being obscured for so long.

“So, Stiles.  How did you enjoy it,” Cassandra teased.

“Um, great.  Really, er, yeah,” Stiles said.  Cassandra giggled and patted him on the back.

“Hey, Stiles!  Where have you been?” Scott’s voice floated to him over the music and voices, and Stiles turned to face his friend.

“Just playing Seven Minutes in heaven.  You looked busy, so I went to get a soda and made some new friends and yeah,” Stiles told Scott. 

“Cool.  Well, man, we’ve gotta get going.  Mum’s waiting outside.  We’ve gotta get up early to go camping tomorrow,” Scott reminded him.

“Yeah, I know.  Just let me say bye and I’ll be out in two minutes, okay?” Stiles said.  Scott nodded at him and turned towards the door.  Stiles turned back to the group of people and gave everyone a nod.  He got several hand shakes, a hug and thanks from Cassandra, a smile from the other girls (including Lydia) and a strangely tense nod from Jackson.   Stiles thanked the host of the party before scurrying out to Mrs. McCall’s car and climbing into the backseat with Scott.

“Did you boys have a good night?” she asked them.

“Yes!  I made a couple of friends and I think I can make the Lacrosse team this year,” Scott told her.  Stiles gave her a smile but remained silent.

“Dude, what’s that look?  You’ve never this quiet,” Scott asked him quietly.

“I kissed someone,” Stiles told him.

“What?  Who?  How?” Scott asked, obviously excited.

“I’ll tell you when we get home.  All I know is that it was a girl, and she could really kiss,” Stiles answered, before leaning back against the headrest and staring out the window, replaying the kiss in his mind.  Scott left it alone like the good friend he was, knowing he would get all the details later.  Neither boy could have guessed then that that night would be the beginning of a never ending series of encounters that would change their lives forever.


	2. Chapter 2

II

 

Three Years Later

 

Lydia was lounging by the pool, letting her body soak in the heat.  Scott and Allison were playing around in the deep end of her pool, splashing each other with water and Stiles was inside getting sodas for everybody.  After the drama of Junior year, Lydia was enjoying the time she had to herself to just relax and spend with friends.  

“Lydia, come in!  The water’s so nice,” Allison called to her.

“I’m enjoying the sun.  Besides, if I wet my hair I would be ruining two hours work, and that simply wouldn’t do,” Lydia replied, flipping onto her stomach and pulling her hair forward to reveal her porcelain shoulders.  Allison smiled at her and then gasped when Scott splashed her right in the face.

“Hey!” Allison protested.

“You never said the game was off,” Scott teased her.

“Oh you just wait,” Allison told him and jumped on him, surging water towards him and pushing his head under.

“Hey!  If you kill my best friend, you undo all the work Lydia and I just did to save his sorry ass,” Stiles’ voice floated out through the doorway he had just stepped through.  He had one hand on his hip and a tray balanced on the other.  Lydia smiled at his joke.  Over the course of the past year she and Stiles had formed a steady friendship while solving the mystery of the Darach.  Now all was said and done, she had found that she actually liked him for who he was-- a quirky, interesting and smart person who made her smile at least once a day.  Lydia had found that in lieu of Scott and Allison getting back together, Stiles had been the one she had turned to on more than one occasion when she needed some time away from the books to just hang out.  Stiles-- while still admiring her on the most basic level-- had lost the nervous disposition he had once held around her and treated her as an equal and a friend.  He was also one of the only people who rivalled her in academics, which was saying a lot.  Stiles had moved towards her while she was lost in thought, and selected a drink from the tray, before bending to her level with a flourish and saying, “a drink for the lady.”

“Thanks,” Lydia replied, taking the drink from him with only a slight brush of fingers.  She grabbed the wedge of lime from the rim of the glass and sucked on it, before taking a sip of the drink itself.  It was a Lemon, Lime and Bitters-- her favourite-- and it was freshly mixed.  Lydia gave Stiles a direct and special smile she reserved for only the truly deserving, and he dimpled back at her before placing the try of drinks on the low table next to Lydia’s lounge, pulling off his shirt and jumping into the pool.  

 

***

 

The late summer sun had started to set, and there was a definite chill in the air.  Scott and Stiles were sitting at the kitchen island chopping vegetables and Allison was at the bench slicing up strips of chicken and tofu.  Lydia was currently preparing the boiling water for the egg noodles they planned to mix into the dish.  The others were always amazed at how well they worked together, but Lydia had considered why this was and had come to the conclusion that it was because they all balanced each other out.  Scott was impulsive where Stiles was measured and (despite the ADHD) patient.  Allison was idealistic where Lydia was jaded.  They all worked well together because they knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses and worked to the best of their abilities.  And, despite their differences, they all honestly and genuinely liked each other.

 

Lydia’s strawberry blonde hair was pulled up into a bun on the top of her head to keep it away from the food, and she had donned a cream coloured merino wool sweater to keep her bare arms and shoulders warm.  Despite the warm weather of the day, California had a trend where it dropped it’s warmth at night in favour of cool breezes.  Her deft hands moved quickly and she carefully separated the noodles with her fingers before dropping them into the water to soak for a few minutes.  Allison had started frying off the meat and tofu, and both Scott and Stiles were bringing their cutting boards around to place on the bench next to the stovetop so that Allison could add the vegetables when she was ready.  Lydia left the bowl of noodles to soak and quickly rinsed her hand, scrubbing around her nails to ensure they were clean.  Scott and Stiles quickly followed suit.  Lydia had turned back to her preparations and was fishing a colander out of one of the drawers when a hand was suddenly placed on her lower back.  She shrieked with surprise and promptly dropped the colander onto the floor causing a loud, metallic crashing noise.  Lydia heard Scott and Allison spin around to check on her.  The hand quickly removed itself from her and gently touched her shoulder, spinning her around.  Frightened green met concerned golden brown, and Lydia realised that it had been Stiles who had unintentionally scared her.

“I’m really sorry Lydia,” he was apologising, stroking one of her arms.  “I was just going to ask where the plates are so I could set the table.  I honestly didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lydia caught her breath, shook her head and smoothed her sweater down before smiling at Stiles and saying, “it’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.  I’m not hurt, you just gave me a fright.  The plates are in the cupboard under the vase on the kitchen island.”  Stiles looked her over, his gaze skating down her legs and back up to her eyes before he was satisfied.  He pulled his arm back, and turned to set the table.  Lydia smiled at Allison before bending to pick up the colander and rinse it under the water.

 

***

 

The food was resting on clean, white plates and sending swirls of steam up into the air.  Lydia, Stiles and Allison were sitting at the table and Scott was brining over a pitcher of water.  Lydia was absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair around her finger when she looked up to see two pairs of concerned eyes on her.  A line formed on her forehead, and she let out a frustrated huff of breath as Scott sat down and began pouring water into glasses.

“Look, I know you didn’t mean to scare me, Stiles.  I’m really okay.  But the fact that you think that I’m not shows me how much you care.  So I’m going to forgive the pitying looks you’re giving me graciously, and we aren’t going to talk about this again, okay?” Lydia told her friends.  Allison shook her head and smiled a little.  Stiles was frowning at her, but he let it go and gave Lydia a look that plainly said that the discussion wasn’t over just yet.  Scott picked up a fork and looked to Allison who said, “well, we should eat before it gets cold.  Dig in.”  They all did.

 

Half empty plates brought conversation, and school was on everyone’s mind as of late.

“My dad told me that I got into the AP English course I wanted, so I’m happy.  I’m just ready for this year to be over so we can leave all this Werewolf drama behind,” Allison said, reaching for Scotts hand under the table.

“I passed everything last year pretty well, but I’m still in average people classes.  I’m just happy that we’re back together,” Scott smiled back at Allison.  Lydia felt the green monster come back in under her skin in that moment, but forced a small smile.  Letting go of Jackson had been hard, and living with the reminder that she was alone had been one of the most trying things she had ever had to go through.  With her best friend busy in a relationship, Lydia had realised how much time she had spent with Jackson over holiday periods.  It was easier with time, but there was still a small hole in her heart where she carried the loss she was living with.

“Well, I finally talked the administration into putting me into AP Chem and Physics, so I hope the teachers are ready to have their classes turned upside down.  What are you taking, Lydia?” Stiles jerked Lydia of of her reverie.

“Huh?” she sounded dazed and rude, but she moved her gaze to him.

“I asked what subjects you were taking this year,” Stiles reiterated. 

“AP Chem, Physics, English, Geometry and French.  Then I’m taking a long distance course to study Arabic.  I tried to get into a university level course for mathematics, but the school said six subjects was already too many,” Lydia said distractedly.  She had been looking at her nails for three seconds when she realised that the conversation had not continued.  Lydia looked up to find one smirk and two wide-eyed gazes staring at her.

“What?” she asked bitchily.  

“Lydia?  How smart are you, exactly?” Scott asked her.

“In what context?” Lydia questioned him.

“In terms us mortals can understand,” Scott joked.

“I have an IQ of one hundred and sixty-seven, I speak five languages fluently, I can read and write in eight and I have an eidetic memory,” Lydia summarised.  Scott and Allison just looked at her.

“An IQ of 160 is genius level.  Just in case you didn’t know,” Stiles helpfully supplied.  His smirk had become a smile; a full-blow, dimple popping smile.  Lydia had realised some time ago that he was the only person who knew how smart she really was.  She had never told him her actual scores, but somehow he had always seen that she shone brighter than the people around her.

“Then why do you act like an airhead?” Scott blurted.  Allison gave him a you-should-really-stop-talking look, but he continued with, “honestly.  If you’re seriously that exceptional, shouldn’t you like, be in a gifted school or something.  Seriously.  Why would you choose a public high school?”

Lydia had given the matter a lot of thought. Her mother had actually offered her a gifted school option when her parents first got divorced.  But, despite all her mother’s reassurances that she would fit in better, Lydia had decided that she would prove her mother wrong and fit in perfectly at a normal school.  In her first year at Beacon Hills, Lydia had moved along the social ladder quickly.  Jackson had become a rising star on the Lacrosse team, and-- not long after the first semester had begun-- he had finally, finally asked her out on a date.  They had gone to the movies, and he had kissed her, and it was totally perfect.  And it had been perfect for a year.  But then Scott had become a Werewolf, and Jackson had retreated into himself like a snail into it’s shell, and Lydia had been left alone.  Her new friend Allison had been caught up into Scott and all her other friends had become bored with her one-track, Jackson-obsessed mind.  And then everything had become dark for a while.  But-- like a comet crossing the sky-- everything had lit up again.  She and Allison were both single for a summer, and they had grown on their own terms.  Allison had immersed herself in France, and Lydia had immersed herself in maths.  She had completed several of the electives for her first year of university and when she and Allison had finally had time to catch up, the Alpha pack had showed up and the Darach had started sacrificing people and it had become one big mess.  But, now it was over, Lydia was a much stronger person because of it.  And in the end, that was why she had chosen to go to a public high school.  Lydia could get whatever she needed academically by taking AP classes and correspondence courses, but going to school with geeks would never have given her the life experience that Beacon Hills did.  If she had gone to the school her mother had wanted, she would probably be a demure, quiet math whiz who had a demure, quiet boyfriend.  They would hold hands and discuss theorems.  But nothing more.  Through all the trials and time, she had friends who were not only ten times more interesting, but actually accepted her for what she was without being exceptional themselves.  She had-- in her own way-- outsmarted her mother, who, really, had only wanted her to go to a good school to prove that she was a better parent without her husband.  Lydia looked up at her friends faces.  Allison, calm and compassionate, but dangerous if you crossed her.  Generous and warm-hearted Scott who honestly was a good guy and a protector.  Stiles.  There wasn’t really any way to describe him.

“Because there are less hot boys at smart schools,” Lydia told him.  Scott laughed out loud, Allison bit back a smile and Stiles shook his head.  And, in their own way, that was how her friends accepted who she really was.

 

***

 

Allison and Scott had left apologetically after Allison received a text from her father saying that he wanted to talk to her before she went to bed.  Stiles had stuck around, helping Lydia to stack the dish washer and wipe down the benches and table.  They worked in companionable silence for the most part, Stiles occasionally humming the notes to some song.  Lydia was putting the detergent into the tray, when Stiles turned to her and asked her, “why did you really choose to go to a public school.  You know that anywhere you went you’d have your pick of guys.  Why Beacon?”

She knew he would ask.  Stiles always saw through the bluster she put on.  He understood her neuroses.  She had always put it down to his ADHD.  But it was more than that.  Stiles understood her on a core level.  

“Honestly?  I was a naive fourteen year old who wanted to prove her cow of a mother wrong about me.  But I was right about one thing-- I learned more at Beacon Hills than any first-class school could have ever given me.  If I hadn’t chosen this path, then I know for a fact I wouldn’t be as strong.  Or as fashionable,” Lydia answered him, trying her hardest not to snark.

“I think you’re wrong, Lydia.  You are the strongest person I know.  But you are a force to be reckoned with.  You always have been.  Remember that party before freshman year started?  At Greenburg’s house?  You were feisty even then,” Stiles told her, honest and blunt as usual.  Lydia didn’t quite know what to say to that.  She did remember that night.  More than one detail that he didn’t know, too.  But she had sworn herself to secrecy after Jackson had admitted he liked her.  And, in the end, it didn’t matter.

“I was, wasn’t I?  Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.  Now get out Stilinski.  I need to finish reading an essay on particle physics before I go to bed, and we have school in the morning,” Lydia had put up the walls again.  She had realised too late that they had been down far too much around Stiles recently.  But Stiles only smiled, accepting her as she was and nodded, picking up his phone off the counter where he had left it earlier and heading towards the front door.  Lydia followed him and stood in the door frame.  Stiles got into his beat-up blue Jeep, and reversed out of her driveway.  He paused for a second and waved at her.  Lydia lifted one elegant hand in reply and Stiles drove off down her street, stealing away into the night.  

 

Lydia closed the door with a light ‘snick’ and turned the lock, before checking the rest of the doors on the lower level of her house.  She the padded up the stairs and into her bedroom’s en suite, stripping off slowly to take a shower.  She switched the water on to hot, and started to wash her hair.  Stiles got her (as much as she hated to admit it) more than Jackson ever had.  But she was sworn off men.  After last year, she just wanted to concentrate on her studies.  She had an unspoken rule that even though boys were fun, mathematics was forever more elegant and important in her life.  Lydia shook the thoughts of Stiles from her head as she began to shave her legs.  Tomorrow was the first day of school and she was ready to finish her Senior year, graduate, go to Berkley on a full scholarship for academic merit and win a Fields’ Medal.  That was her life plan.  And nothing ever stopped Lydia Martin from getting what she wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

III

 

Seniority

 

Stiles had never been one of those people who gradually woke up.  Sure he could doze, but he was always either aware or he wasn’t.  Stiles never did anything by half.  So when he woke up on the first day of Senior year, he jerked awake with all the aplomb and horror attending school deserved.  It took him ten minutes to muster the courage to get out of bed and ten more to get out of the extremely soothing warm shower he followed his sleep with.   When he did eventually get out, he towelled off his hair and body, grabbed fresh briefs, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a long-sleeved checked shirt and some tennis sneakers and tugged them on before heading downstairs.  After some nice, greasy bacon and fresh scrambled eggs, Stiles felt a lot more human.  Mostly because he had just eaten about half a pig and two potential chickens, but, hey, survival of the fittest and all that.  He wasn’t allowed the coffee most people resorted to because of his ADHD, but a nice glass of OJ helped him swallow his morning dosage of Adderall and then it was back upstairs to brush his teeth and grab his backpack and school supplies before locking the house and getting into his Jeep.

 

Some days it was so easy to believe that none of the crazy stuff had ever happened and that all Stiles needed to do was to go to school and pretend that he wasn’t a loser.  It was only eight in the morning, but the Californian summer heat was already permeating Beacon Hills.  Stiles wound his window down and pressed play on the stereo, turning it up loud enough to hear over the rush of the wind, but low enough so that it wasn’t obnoxious.  The song that came on was a well-known favourite, and he tapped his hands idly on the steering wheel as he neared the intersection that lead to school.  Driving into the parking lot, he took the first spot he saw, knowing that getting a better one was unlikely, and reversed into it to save himself time and effort later in the day.  He did a time check (20 minutes until home room), grabbed his stuff from the passenger seat and got out of the car, pressing central locking.  He then walked straight into the school, heading for the office to get his schedule and locker assignment.  When he’d received his packet from the lady at the desk, he found his locker number and code, keying it in and shoving several spare notebooks, pens and highlighters into the space.  His lacrosse locker was the same as last years and his kit was in his car so Stiles would get that after school before practice started at 3:45.  His mental checklist finished, he texted Scott.

 

_just got my schedule.  stuffs in my locker.  are you around?_

 

It took Scott about thirty seconds to reply.

 

_in the office.  locker number 352.  meet me there._

 

Stiles re-shouldered his bag and pocketed his phone before winding through the corridors to get to Scotts locker.  Scott was already there when Stiles reached him, and turned to smile at Stiles before moving a few things around and shutting his locker.

“Hey, man.  How’s your schedule looking?” Scott asked him.

“It’s manageable.  If I don’t start in Lacrosse and abandon my multitude of friends and extracurriculars I think I’ll do just fine,” Stiles said sarcastically.  Despite lacking attention, Stiles was a straight A student.  He had developed an excellent method to cope with his condition- half an hour per subject requiring work until all subjects have been attempted, then thirty minutes of a relaxation method, then back to the beginning and rotate until all work is finished.  It worked surprisingly well as long as Stiles kept up with his medication and kept his stress levels low.  However, breaks were sometimes notorious for being diverting, especially if it were more than an innocent game of Call Of Duty.

Scott laughed and shook his head before sighing, “I’m glad yours is fine.  Mines okay, but I’m going to have to spend some strictly platonic time with Allison to get all my work done.  I’ve been here ten minutes and I already have Senioritis.”

“I feel you, bro.  I probably would have graduated early except for Lydia still being here.  And I had to tech your dumb butt a few things too,” Stiles joked.

“So, who’ve you got for homeroom?  I’ve got Thomas.  She’s okay,” Scott asked him.

“Jinx,” Stiles said, smiling and heading toward the classroom indicated on both of their timetables.

“How have things been?  With Lydia I mean,” Scott clarified.  Stiles took a few seconds to answer, drawing in a breath.  The tentative friendship that had formed between them last year had left Stiles very confused.  They got along (when Lydia wasn’t being a bitch and Stiles wasn’t being obstinate) and were well matched in both brains and interests.  Stiles had discovered that Lydia was more than a little obsessed with anime, and kept a secret collection stored in her room.  The summer had been a revelation.  Stiles was only more attracted to her after getting to know her a little better.  But she kept her cards close to her chest at all times.  

“Good.  We haven’t had a screaming match yet, so I’m assuming that she likes me at least a little bit.  But who wouldn’t?  It’s the Stilinski charm,” Stiles told Scott, who nodded in agreement and smiled.  They entered the classroom just as the tardy bell rang, and took the only available seats in the second row.  The teacher checked off their names, and started noting down the seating arrangements.  Stiles looked up at the clock and reminded himself that this was his last first day of high school, ever.  He smiled over at Scott and turned his head back to the board and started reading notices.

 

***

 

Stiles shut his locker.  The morning was over and he had forty minutes to relax and have something to eat.  His fast metabolism had long since processed the bacon and eggs he had eaten, and it was growling for something substantial to fill it up.  Stiles entered the cafeteria and took his spot in the lunch line, choosing one option from each of the allotted sections.  His tray ended up with a pasta dish, a bottle of water, an apple, a bag of crisps and a pudding.  Handing his money to the lunch lady, Stiles checked to see if his friends had arrived yet.  None of them had, so Stiles chose an empty table next to a window and plonked himself down into the low chairs provided by the school.  He uncapped his water and took a sip, before starting to consume the pasta.  Two or three minutes later, he was joined by Allison, who told him that Scott was buying his lunch.  Allison opened a paper bag she had with her and started to eat her salad.

“How’s your day going, Stiles?” she asked between bites.

“Not bad.  I’ve already done a lot of the reading for the subjects I had this morning so not too much homework.  What about you?  Regretting the transfer to the AP classes?” Stiles replied as Scott sat down and started eating.

“Not yet.  I haven’t had English yet today, though,” Allison laughed.

“I’m sure you’ll do amazingly,” Scott told her, smiling.

“Thanks,” Allison blushed and took a sip of the juice Scott had bought for her.  It was at that moment that Lydia dropped her lunch tray rather heavily onto the table next to Stiles and sat down with a frown marring her face.

“Are you--?” Stiles began.

“No I’m not okay!  I just spent ten minutes in the principals office being told that the school wouldn’t let me take my Arabic correspondence class because they have a policy on languages here.  Apparently wanting to improve the political situation with the Middle East makes me a terrorist!” Lydia fumed.  “He’s a fascist pig!  It’s not because of the language, it’s because I’m a girl and he doesn’t think women deserve an excellent education,” she declared, finishing her rant with crossed arms and a pout to rival Lindsay Lohan.  Scott opened and closed his mouth, clearly not sure what to say.  Allison smiled sympathetically and reached across the table to touch Lydia’s shoulder.

“And we didn’t think this place could get any worse,” Stiles said sarcastically.  Lydia slid her glare sideways and he quickly back-pedalled.

“No, no, wait-- I just meant...  Hey, what if you did it via college level credit?” Stiles actually cracked a smile, and Lydia raised one perfect eyebrow, telling him silently to continue.

“Yeah!  We can all access classes at the local community college.  You’ve already completed over half the requirements for Freshman year, so why don’t you minor in a language?  You can get your accreditation through the community college.  Just apply for an language subject and do correspondence through them.  That way the school can’t stop you, because they can’t prevent kids from taking college level courses as qualifiers!” Stiles said, a hopeful smile on his face.  Lydia’s frown had changed from annoyed to deep thought and her face slowly smoothed out into a smile.

“You know, Stilinski, that is not a bad idea at all.  In fact, if I hadn’t heard it come out of your mouth, I would have sworn it was mine,” Lydia told him, and promptly started eating her lunch.  Scott and Allison were staring between Lydia and Stiles who were now both calmly eating, seemingly content.

“So... Lydia?  What’s your work load like?” Allison asked, and the conversation began to flow again.  Both Stiles and Lydia had smiles on their faces: one of pride, one of hope.

 

***

 

It was 5:45 p.m.  Lacrosse practice had ended half an hour ago, and Stiles was freshly showered and dressed, his hair still slightly damp.  Sheriff Stilinski was off shift that afternoon, and Stiles was not interested in the third degree about colleges and the SATs.  Stiles was taking refuge in the least used room in the whole school-- the library (which was open ‘til nine on most weeknights).  The corridors were quiet, and the only discernible sound was Stiles’ footsteps and the jangle of the keys and coins in his pockets.  Pushing the doors open, Stiles was surprised to see a petite figure with a cloud of strawberry-blonde hair seated at one of the tables.  Lydia had slipped off her shoes and was curled up in the chair with a book in her lap and headphones in her ears.  She was obviously very concentrated in on the equations she was working on, and Stiles had no wish to scare her again, so he moved slowly into her line of sight and tapped her on the shoulder, so that she knew someone was there before he asked for her full attention.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked, as Lydia was pulling out a headphone.  

“Having hot sex in the stacks.  What does it look like I’m doing, Stilinski?” Lydia snarked.  Stiles held up his hands in the universal gesture of ‘don’t shoot’.  Lydia sighed and apologised, “I’m sorry.  Look, I’ve had a rough afternoon I’d rather not talk about so can we drop it?”

“Of course.  No problemo.  Drama ignored.  No questions for Stiles,” Stiles said.  Lydia’s lips quirked up slightly at the corners, and she turned back to her work, but left one headphone out of her ear, silently letting him know that she accepted his presence.  Stiles plonked himself down in the seat opposite her, and took the books he needed out of his bag, along with a pen and a highlighter.  He set his phone on count-down to employ his study strategy and placed it onto the desk next to the pile of study materials.  Opening his Physics textbook, he took the highlighter and started to take notes, occasionally switching to the pen and noting questions in the margins that he intended to research and answer later.  

 

***

 

Stiles had moved through three subjects when he felt eyes on him.  He looked up to see Lydia staring at him and biting her lip, for once not concealing her expression.  She looked to be weighing up something in her head.

“What is it?” Stiles asked.

“Nothing.  Your study method is so strange.  I kind of wonder how you get anything done,” Lydia replied, fascination and confusion in her voice.

“It’s the ADHD.  If I rotate often enough, my mind never gets bored and I can study whatever.  It’s more of a prevention method since I’m already on Adderall, but it’s always helped.”  Stiles hadn’t told anyone apart from Scott that he was medicated for his ADHD until Lydia had asked him over the summer how he was so patient.  He had been caught off guard by the question; most people just assumed he had grown out of it.  Stiles had never minded being ADHD.  Honestly, it actually made keeping fit easier as he always had a lot of energy, so running and sports became a good distraction when he needed to just turn his brain off for a while.  His father had made the decision to put him on Adderall after his mother had died.  Stiles had started rotating between different harmful activities-- pacing, moping, crying-- in ridiculously fast succession, and Sheriff Stilinski had wanted his son’s moods to even out so he had a chance to heal.  After starting the meds, though, Stiles’ concentration had improved tenfold, and he started excelling in his classes.  Stiles had made the decision to stay on the Adderall himself, because he liked being able to learn and concentrate, but there were days which were more consuming than others.  So, Stiles had developed the system he was using now.  It helped him to not dwell on anything by switching his focus regularly.  The method was more for self-preservation than anything.

“Huh.  Interesting.  But you can focus on one thing for a longer period of time?” Lydia asked, the keen mind of a mathematician working analytically as usual.

“Of course.  I’m ADHD, not mentally ill,” Stiles said sarcastically.  Lydia nodded, not offended in the slightest and returned to her work.

 

An hour later it was nearly closing time, and Stiles and Lydia were the last two there.  The librarian was giving them furtive glances, as if she could get them to go just by sheer will alone.  Stiles knew that he wouldn’t have enough time for another rotation, so he was reading through the notes he had taken in Physics, just to make sure he understood what was going on.  He was so immersed in his work, he didn’t hear Lydia standing up from the table and putting books into her bag.  She had called his name twice before Stiles realised what was happening.

“Sorry, Lydia.  I was reading the notes on nuclear thermodynamics and I got confused and then I didn’t hear you,” Stiles babbled, quickly chucking his books into his bag without stacking them, zipping it up and shouldering it.

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Lydia said, turning and wandering towards the double doors, the high heels she had been wearing earlier back on her feet and clicking with each step.  Stiles gave the librarian a quick smile and hurried to catch up with her.  They walked in silence through the corridors of the school, both heading to the parking lot.  They had reached the front stairs when Lydia finally broke the silence.

“You know, Physics isn’t that hard,” she told Stiles.

“Not for you,” Stiles replied.

“Not for anyone.  You just need a good teacher,” Lydia disagreed.

“Well, why don’t you teach me?” Stiles joked.

“I could, you know.  In fact, be in the library tomorrow at seven and I will,” she decided as the reached her car.

“Seriously?  Why would you do that?” Stiles asked, shocked, but still remembering to open her door for her after she pressed the unlock button on her keys.

“Because you need help and I can help you.  Besides, Stiles, we’re friends.  So if I do you this favour, you owe me one.  And I like having people in my debt. Makes it a lot easier to get expensive birthday presents,” Lydia quipped, lowering herself into the driver’s seat.

“Whatever you say, Lydia,” Stiles said, shaking his head and smiling.  “I’ll be there.”

“Seven sharp.  I don’t like to be kept waiting,” Lydia said, and then reversed out of her parking space and headed out into the town.  Stiles laughed incredulously, staring after her.  He shook his head and started toward his car.  He wasn’t going to turn down extra time with Lydia or the chance to improve his grades.  

“Two birds, one stone,” Stiles whispered to himself as he climbed into his car and headed home.  Even the thought of his father waiting up to harass him couldn’t stop the smile from forming on Stiles’ face.


	4. Chapter 4

IV

 

Adrenaline vs Dopamine

 

It was not the first Saturday night in this school year for Lydia Martin.  Nor would it be her last.  But there was still something depressing about not having any plans for the evening.  Lydia looked at her freshly-painted, apple-green toenails and sighed.  She had already had a relaxing bath, applied a face and hair mask, exfoliated her body and painted her fingernails.  Now her toenails were drying and-- apart from the 20-minute waiting period which was required to avoid smudging-- Lydia had nothing left to do to her body.  She wasn’t going anywhere or expecting company so her face could remain bare.  Her hair was drying over her back, but Lydia didn’t need to do unnecessary heat styling and cause damage.  And, in typical Lydia fashion, all her homework was completed.  Lydia carefully flipped onto her stomach and crossed her ankles in the air before opening the browser on her computer and starting to check social media.  Two minutes later she was already bored.  She closed the window and opened iTunes, clicking on her favourite playlist and starting to hum along to one of her favourite songs while opening a journal article file and starting to read.  This had-- sadly-- become a very regular routine.

 

Lydia’s phone was buzzing, and she reached across to her night stand to grab it and check her messages.  The screen was lit up, and she quickly unlocked the phone to find a message from Allison.

 

_Hey Lyds :)  I know you’re probably busy on a date or something, but I was wondering if you had Hallowe’en plans? x_

 

Lydia almost smirked at the thought of actually having something to do, and replied immediately.

 

_None just yet.  I have ordered my costume though... ;)  You can ring if you’d like.  Not busy._

 

Lydia hated sounding desperate, but she sent the text anyway, as she had no idea how to rephrase it.  Almost immediately there was a ringing sound coming from her phone, and Lydia pressed the answer button on the screen of her phone.

“Hi Allison,” she said.

“Hey,” Alison replied.  “So, Scott and I were thinking about going to Adam Wagner’s party and I wanted to know if you were planning on going somewhere or if you wanted to come with us.”  Lydia considered this.  Adam was a decent guy-- and his parties were always fun-- but Lydia wasn't really up for playing dumb these days, and since she’d sworn off men after the Aidan incident last year, there were no acceptable boys around.  And-- besides the costumes-- Hallowe’en wasn’t all that fun.  

 

She wasn’t into pumpkin carving; it got in under your nails and wrecked a perfectly good manicure.  Candy was bad for your waistline and your complexion.  And-- most of all-- trick-or-treat had never made any sense to her.  It was a lot more like Adrenaline or Dopamine.  One provoked fear, and the other provoked, well, something that Lydia didn’t want to think about because it had been months since she’d been satisfied in that way by someone other than her.  If she was being honest with herself, she mostly missed the way Jackson had made her body feel these days.  And there were plenty of guys who would willingly supply themselves to get her off.  But Lydia had found herself fantasising more and more often about a certain pair of  hands with, long graceful fingers and callouses and knuckles that would just feel so exquisite...

“No!  I mean, I’m not really up for Hallowe’en this year.  I ordered my costume about a month ago, but I’m not feeling a party anymore.  But if you guys want to go, then that’s fine,” Lydia told Allison.

“Oh, good!” Allison said, sounding relieved.  “Scott and I didn’t want to go either, but I thought you’d probably have something planned and want a wing-woman.  But now we can just stay in.  It’ll be so much nicer!”  Lydia cracked a small smile.  Even after finally coming clean about who she really was, Lydia had never felt able to entirely drop the part of her personality that she had created to deal with her life around other people.  But it was becoming easier to let her friends into her real life.

“What about you guys come over to mine?  Mum just bought a completely unnecessary sound system, but it should keep Scott entertained, and we can do the whole handing out candy thing.  Besides, Mum has a work party.  She already has her costume-- the wicked witch of the East,” Lydia offered, with a hint of her usual snark.  

“Honestly, Lyds, that sounds amazing.  I’m up for a night in without Dad breathing down our necks, so we’re in,” Allison said, and Lydia could hear the smile in her voice.

“Excellent.  Be here at seven sharp.  Bring pizza and I’ll take care of the movie and the other refreshments,” Lydia said.

Allison giggled and replied, “you know, we don’t need to drink.  It’s only Hallowe’en.”

“You may not need a drink, but I do.  I’m sick of not having any fun.  You and Scott will probably be doing something that rates significantly higher than PG-13.  Besides, drinking games were invented for Hallowe’en,” Lydia told Allison.

“Whatever you say.  I gotta go.  Talk soon,” Allison said.

“Bye,” Lydia said shortly, before hanging up and tossing the phone onto the covers in front of her and sighing.  She was glad she could give Scott and Allison some much needed time together, but she hated being the third wheel in their relationship.  It had been so much easier when she had had Jackson around.  And now she couldn’t go to her default because things were getting weird.

 

Nothing had happened with Stiles, apart from the studying sessions-- which were something that Lydia looked forward to, no matter how much she tried to deny it-- and spending time together in the classes they shared.  However, Lydia had had a moment of revelation in one of their recent study sessions.

 

_Three weeks previously..._

 

“And... done!” Stiles said, pushing the button on the timer.  They had been doing speed drills in preparation for the SATs in a week’s time, and Lydia was enjoying the challenge.  She had, of course, finished thirty seconds previously, but Stiles was definitely catching up to her.  It was a Saturday, and the last of the last summer light was starting to push through the high windows, falling in beams onto the carpet and several spots on their table, sending patterns swirling.  Lydia smiled slightly as she handed him the answer sheet to the problems, having already marked her own work (which was, of course, perfect).  

 

Stiles reached across the desk for the red marking pen, and as he did his hand swept through one of the patches of light and lit up, his pale skin shining in the glow.  Lydia had drawn in a breath at the sight.  How had she not noticed that Stiles had hands like that?  His fingers were long and slim, like that of a pianist, with ridges and callouses from lacrosse.  They were both delicate and masculine; the kind of fingers a girl would not be able to resist holding in both platonic and intimate ways.  Stiles’ hand retracted once the pen was in his grasp, but Lydia continued to stare down as they began to flick over the paper, circling mistakes in red and ticking correct answers.  Stiles had had to break her reverie.

“Lydia?  Lydia?  Lydia!”

“Huh?  Oh, I’m sorry.  I was just thinking about the English practice we have to do tomorrow,” Lydia lied.  

Stiles laughed and shook his head before saying, “we just finished the maths!  You, Lydia Martin, have a one-track mind.  I think you need to go on holiday or something.”

“Yeah I sure could use some times between the sheets,” Lydia quipped, obviously trying to embarrass Stiles with her double entendre.

“I know what you really meant, Lydia.  I’m probably the only one who’s seen you enough in the past couple of weeks to notice the bags under your eyes.  We should get the last test done so you can get some sleep,” Stiles said unembarrassed, closing the matter.  The two of them had packed up and left the library soon after that so that they both had enough time to do reading before bed, but the thoughts of Stiles’ fingers had lingered and left Lydia in a state of extreme sexual and emotional frustration.

 

_Present..._

 

If she was being honest with herself, she was over Jackson.  She wasn’t ready for another man in her life, though.  And then there was her new-found, confusing attraction to _Stiles Stilinski_ , for Christ’s sake.  The pressure was almost too much.  Lydia turned around on the bed, and hung her head over the edge, facing the floor, and pulled a small, grey box out from under the bed.  It was sealed with a lock, just in case her mother ever decided to snoop, and Lydia quickly keyed in the code.  The lock was gone in a minute, and Lydia opened the box and pulled out some of her favourite things, before shutting it and re-locking it.  She stripped down, picked up the items and strolled into her bathroom, locking the door carefully and turning on the shower.  There was nothing she could do about her confused emotions unless she examined them, and she was not in the mood for a trip through her mental insanities.  She could, however, ease her physical frustration.  

“Nothing like a good orgasm to stop troublesome thoughts,” Lydia said to herself as she stepped into the warm fall of water, and closed her eyes, ignoring the fact that she had already showered that evening.  A familiar, buzzing noise could just be heard above the sound of running water, and as the vibrator entered her, Lydia pictured a set of long, pale, masculine fingers parting her folds instead.  It didn’t bother her until much later that instead of fantasising about one of her usual celebrities (Henry Cavill was her current choice) that she had-- for the first time in her life-- fantasised about someone she actually knew.  And not just anyone, but Stiles Stilinski and his long fingers.

 

***

 

“You’re quiet,” Stiles remarked when they met later in the week to compare assignments for Physics.  Even though time had passed since her realisation of the attraction she had to Stiles, Lydia was still conflicted over her actions on Saturday.  Lydia had freaked herself out with her behaviour and she realised that she was going to have to deal with it sooner or later.  And had Lydia picked sooner, if her heightened snark was any indication.

“I’m just reading.  Do you have a problem with me making your assignment better, Stilinski?” she said, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

“No!  No problems here.  Oh, actually, I did have a question though,” Stiles told her, a frown forming on his face.

Lydia sighed, put down her red pen and asked, “yes?”

“Well, I was wondering if you were okay.  I mean, you’ve been, well, meaner than usual in the past week, and you actually have one of the problems wrong on your assignment,” Stiles revealed.

“What? No I don’t!” Lydia shrieked, grabbing the paper Stiles had been looking over and finding one of the questions covered in pen, and obviously incorrect now she looked at it.  

Stiles’ mouth started to tilt up at the corners in a small smile.

“Okay, so I got a question wrong.  So what?  Everyone makes mistakes,” Lydia said dismissively.

“Not you, Lydia.  You could do this type of math in your sleep,” Stiles remarked.  Lydia sighed.  She realised she was going to have to give a little to get the quiet she wanted.

“Okay, I have a few things going on at the moment.  No, I don’t want to talk about them.  Yes I’m fine.  Now, we need to discuss how we are going to survive Allison and Scott being nauseatingly affectionate on Saturday night, because the only time I ever throw up on Hallowe’en is when I do to many vodka shots,” Lydia effectively switched the conversation topic to something she was happy discussing.

“Ah, yes, the dream couple.  I did have a few ideas after Scott invited me, if you’re interested,” Stiles mentioned.

“Anything to avoid watching their tonsil tennis,” Lydia said, glad for the distraction.  Her indiscretions put out of her mind for the minute, she could focus on avoiding any stray thoughts of sexual encounters with the hands that were gesturing wildly in the air in front of her.

 

***

 

It was five minutes to seven.  Lydia was finishing the curls in the bottom of her hair, expertly using her curling iron to get perfect ringlets to sit in her strawberry-blonde locks.  Earlier in the week, she and Allison decided that even though they were going to be staying in, they should get dressed up, as there was nothing lamer as a kid then getting candy from someone who wasn’t in a good costume.  Lydia had been many characters in all her years of Hallowe’en, but she had been saving this particular costume for several years.  

 

Her first year at Beacon Hills High School she and Jackson had attended the annual dance as Spiderman and Mary-Jane, when everything was relatively simple.  They had won the award for best costume, too.  Sophomore year everything was wrong; she had been through so much that Hallowe’en wasn’t even on her mind.  Last year, she had bought a Merida (from Brave) costume online, choosing a Disney theme.  All four of them had gotten involved.  Stiles dressed as Flynn Rider from Tangled, Allison had gone as Belle from Beauty and the Beast, and Scott had (fittingly) used some of his werewolf skills and gone as the Beast.  Despite the elaborate costumes, they had spent the whole time tracking the Darach and they hadn’t had a chance to enjoy the occasion.  It was understandable why they wanted a relaxing night in this year.  And, despite the night in, Lydia knew she looked amazing.

 

The doorbell rang downstairs, and Lydia checked her reflection in the mirror one last time, and re-touched the bright red lipstick to ensure it was at it’s best.  She fluffed her long, curled locks and started down the stairs.  Pulling open the front door, she took in her three friends.  Allison looked incredible and was wearing a tight unitard of black fabric, a pair of cat ears and a black mask.  She made an stunning Catwoman.  Scott was dressed as Batman, complete with a Utility belt and a cape.  He was also holding the pizza, which made Lydia give a small smile at the unexpected humour of the situation.  And Stiles, in typical Stiles fashion, was dressed in the most dorky and somehow accurate costume Lydia had ever seen him wear: Robin.  Scott was the first to break into laughter, and they all followed, even Lydia.  They were all in their Gotham best.  

“So, Allison.  I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you thought Poison Ivy was a good idea then?” Lydia asked, realising what had happened.  Lydia had confided in Allison earlier that week and Allison had asked if Lydia minded if she went as Catwoman, as that had been her original plan.  Obviously Scott had wanted to match, and Stiles didn’t want to be left out either.

“No I wasn’t.  This’ll be great for some photos though,” Allison offered.  Lydia just shook her head and opened the door wider for them to step inside and let the light from inside fall onto her outfit properly.  

“Lydia, you look incredible!  But do not feel that my comment in any way reflects shock or surprise, as you always look great.  And please note that I do not make the comment just to prevent you ripping off your dress from insecurity,” Stiles said, making a personal joke about the time they had attended the formal and Jackson had been a dick to her.  Lydia laughed, as she knew she looked good, anyway.  She had abandoned the typical leotard covered in very poorly sewn fake leaves in favour of a much sexier costume.  She was in a strapless, olive-green dress which had a sweetheart neckline.  The dress was tight to her tiny waist, and down over her hips to just under her ass.  The front was adorned by leaves and vines along the centre starting from her right side and over her breasts to near her heart.  Her legs were uncovered, and ended in a pair of green heels with straps that wound up her calves like vines and had small groups of leaves attached to the covering over her toes.  The only other thing that she wore for her outfit was a crown similar to laurels, but made from ivy leaves and tiny flowers.  

“I know.  But thanks for saying it.  Now, please tell me you ordered a pepperoni, pineapple and olive, or else I’m going to have to give someone the kiss of death,” Lydia joked as her and her four friends made their way into the living room where drinks and a Batman movie were waiting.

 

***

 

The pizza boxes were nearly empty, and someone had stacked them up on top of each other on the end table next to the couch.  Scott and Allison were curled up in each other’s arms on chaise of the couch, Stiles was sprawled out in the middle section with his feet on the coffee table and Lydia was curled into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her and her head resting on the arm.  They were currently watching the final scene from Batman Begins, and they had nearly exhausted the large supply of candy that Lydia had purchased for the trick-or-treaters.  Lydia was on her second Martini, and well on her way to tipsy, given her small frame.  The movie ended and the credits started to roll.  Lydia picked up the remote and changed the screen to the music player, putting on some soft background music.

“What’s the plan?” Allison asked, knowing Lydia would have something in mind.

“I Never,” Lydia replied with a coy smile.

“Not that again!” Scott protested half-heartedly.

“Well, do you have a better idea?” Lydia asked snarkily, rising and moving towards the alcohol cabinet and beginning to search inside for what she was looking for.

“Can’t we just do Truth or Dare?  Its so much easier,” Scott asked.

“Fine.  But if you take truth, you have to take a sip of your drink.  It’ll get you all to be more honest,” Lydia decided, pouring out a glass of Scotch for each of them from the decanter her father had kept; the one her mother got in the divorce, just to spite him.  She set the tray down on the coffee table, and they all gathered around it, claiming a glass.  

“Who wants to start?” Lydia asked, with a pouty smile.  

“I’ll go.  Allison, Truth or Dare?” Stiles said, jumping straight into the game.

 

Half an hour later, all four of them were well beyond tipsy.  Allison had revealed that she lost her virginity to Scott, which was not a surprise to anyone.  Scott had had to kiss Stiles on the lips; both boys had seemed conflicted, but a peck was given and the complaining had ensued.  Lydia had done a sexual dance, taking off her heels and flower crown.  It was Lydia’s turn to subject someone to the eternal question.

“Stiles?  Truth or Dare?” She asked, coyly.

“Well, as much as I love you, Scott, I do not have any inclination to kiss you again, so I’m gonna go with Truth,” Stiles said, taking a large sip of the Scotch that was left in his glass.

“Hmm... okay.  I have one.  Who did you lose your virginity to?” Lydia cocked her head, actually interested in the answer.  Stiles had turned his head away from the group and mumbled something under his breath.

“Come on, Stilinski.  You know the rules,” Lydia pushed him.

“I’m still a virgin,” Stiles said, turning red and obviously embarrassed.

“Really?  But after everything that happened last year?  I totally thought you lost it and just kept it quiet, man,” Scott said, obviously shocked.

“Well, maybe I kept quiet so that I wouldn’t get teased about the fact that I’ve never had sex.  Just in case you didn’t notice, you three haven’t been virgins for a while,” Stiles said, obviously angry at having to admit this.  At that moment, the doorbell rang.  Apparently there were still Trick-or-Treaters out.  Allison started to get up, disentangling herself from Scott.  Before she could stand, she was interrupted.

“I’ll go,” Stiles said and quickly stood, grabbed the bowl of candy from where it was on the couch and walked down the hall through the entrance way with hunched shoulders.

“Well, that went well,” Scott said, pointedly looking at Lydia.

“Hey, it isn’t her fault, Scott.  We all made the assumption that Stiles had had sex and we all contributed to that embarrassment.  We’re all responsible,” Allison said diplomatically.  Even though they were all in part to blame for Stiles’ mortification (including Stiles himself), Lydia was realising that she considered Stiles a close friend.  And, in spirit of that friendship, she would have to take responsibility for her actions.

“Let me talk to him,” Lydia said firmly, and got up from her position on the floor.  Scott and Allison just nodded, and glanced at each other before their eyes followed Lydia down the hallway.  

 

Stiles was just shutting the door when Lydia reached him.  He turned to find her there and sighed, knowing full well that Lydia would not just dismiss his behaviour.  Lydia delivered on that.  But, she did take into account Stiles’ feelings.

“So, I’m sorry for asking you that question.  It was presumptuous of me and even though I thought that I wasn’t asking something that important, it was obviously important to you,” Lydia said, looking at Stiles, who had his head turned towards the floor.

“I know you didn’t mean it, Lydia.  I’m not so much angry.  But I am embarrassed.  You’ve all had that experience, and I haven’t and sometimes-- even though I know it’s stupid-- it makes me feel kind of inferior to you guys.  I feel like I’m not up to scratch and now Isaac and Scott are friends and Allison is back in the picture, I feel like I’m not important,” Stiles confided.  Lydia was not known for platonic physical affection, but seeing Stiles’ wide, brown eyes so forlorn, she acted unthinkingly.  Lydia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Stiles’ waist, pressing her face into his chest.  She breathed in his warm, musky smell and relaxed into the hug as she felt his arms come around her.  They stood like that for about ten seconds before Lydia pulled away and looked up at Stiles.

“Look, Stiles.  I don’t regret having sex.  Because, frankly, I enjoy it too much to ever regret it.  But not having had sex is not a bad thing.  When you do choose to do it, it will be entirely mind-blowing and you will never want to stop.  But don’t ever think that being a virgin makes you any less of a person.  It just means that you have an experience you’ve decided not to have yet,” Lydia said, speaking honestly.  She knew that this was not the time for her harsh words.  Stiles’ eyes had widened as she had spoken, but the creases in his forehead had smoothed out, and his lips has quirked up at the corners.  It was in that moment that Lydia realised that his hands were still resting on her waist and hers were on his chest.  In fact, his hands were so large that they almost fit entirely around her.  She blinked, dumbly, but could not break the electric stare that had formed between them.  Thirty seconds passed, then a minute, but Lydia was drowning in the liquid caramel pools.  Stiles moved his hand from her waist and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear, trailing his hand down her neck before settling it back on her waist.  Lydia sucked in a deep breath as she felt a tendril of heat in her lower belly.  Stiles cocked his head, seemingly thinking, before slowly deciding to lean in.  And Lydia wasn’t one to refuse a good kiss.  But all rational thoughts were suddenly returned to her head when the doorbell rang.  Lydia and Stiles jumped away from each other in shock, and then realised what had been about to happen.  Lydia turned away and grabbed the candy bowl, turning the doorknob.  Right before she head a chorus of ‘Trick-or-Treat’, she head Stiles’ light footsteps making their way back into the living room.

 

Later that night after she was alone again, she repeated her ritual from the previous Saturday.  It took her three days to come to terms with the fact that, yes, she was attracted to Stiles Stilinski, and three more for her to forgive herself for the mental images which had become a regular occurrence in her nightly physical release sessions.  But she refused to accept that she might have let herself act on it.  Lydia Martin was sworn off boys.  Even ones with very, very nice hands.

 


	5. Chapter 5

V

 

Two Steps Forward

 

It had been a week and a half since Lydia’s Hallowe’en get-together, and Stiles was eating his words about the so-called ‘dream couple’.  It seemed that two days later, Scott and Allison were having a huge fight.  Since Isaac had obviously told Scott that he didn’t want to hear about it, Scott had elected Stiles the head of his complaining committee.  Stiles had already put up with a week of Scott whining about the argument, which was mediocre compared to Stiles’ emotional conflict about his relationship with a certain redhead.  Apparently Allison had not told Scott that their usual sex routine on Tuesday nights would not be happening that week due to her period.  Scott had not taken it well, despite being raised by Melissa in a single parent household, where a woman rained supreme.  The long and short of it was that Allison was annoyed at Scott for not being sensitive when she was emotionally compromised, and Scott was annoyed at Allison for not telling him in advance, because he had had to lie to his mother for nothing and would have to spend several hours out of the house in order to make the lie look legitimate.  It was only a lover’s spat, but it had been going on for to long, and nothing he said was making any difference.  Stiles secretly was on Allison’s side.  Though he sympathised with Scott, he hadn’t had a mother around to ask about the strange changes in his female friends once they hit puberty.  His incessant Googling had yielded some interesting and disgusting results, but even someone as poorly educated as Stiles knew not to upset a woman on her period.  To be honest, the things he had read had both traumatised him and given him more respect for females.  They were incredibly strong.

 

To be honest, though, Stiles was more annoyed that he had not been able to spend time with Lydia.  He had only seen her twice after school in the past week, and even then he had only been able to stay for an hour or so before Scott messaged him about wanting to do something.  Stiles had gotten to the point of no return last night, and had told Scott that he couldn’t take any more of the complaining.  Scott had-- admittedly-- taken it pretty well, but Stiles still felt bad about ditching his best friend.  However, spending time with Lydia was definitely worth it.  Stiles was meeting her in about half an hour and he was already running late because he had stopped to buy coffee and snacks.  It was seven p.m. (the time they had agreed to meet) and Stiles’ stomach was growling.  He had had Lacrosse practice that afternoon, but Lydia also needed to keep a doctors appointment at five, so they had decided to meet after their usual time so that they both had time to go home and organise themselves.  Stiles had showered, dressed, spent 30 minutes surfing the internet and then left, before remembering that he hadn’t eaten dinner.  He had made the fastest stop he could, grabbing something for both himself and Lydia, then getting back into his car and driving as fast as he could without being dangerous or breaking the speed limit to badly.  

 

 

Stiles pulled into the parking lot, parked as quick and as close as he could, before grabbing his belongings and the food, locking his car and sprinting into the school and to the library.  He was panting by the time he pushed open the double doors, but attempted to catch his breath as he wandered over to the table where he and Lydia usually sat.  She was there, as usual, but the scowl on her face told him that she was unhappy with him.

“You’re late.”

“I am so sorry.  I left the house at six-thirty, but then I remembered I hadn’t eaten-- and I didn’t think you would have either-- so I went to Starbucks and got us something,”  Stiles said, placing the bag in his hand on the table as a kind of peace offering.  Lydia opened it suspiciously.  She pulled out two fresh muffins, a bottle of orange juice, her favourite drink (pressed apple and rhubarb juice) and two small bags of crisps.

“Cranberry and white chocolate.  My favourite.  How did you know?” Lydia asked suspiciously, picking up one of the muffins.  Stiles quirked up one corner of his mouth.

“Lydia, I’ve known you for more than half my life.  If you seriously think that I don’t know what you like and what you don’t, you don’t give me enough credit,” Stiles answered.  Lydia  carefully pulled back the wrapping of one of the muffins and took a small bite, chewing.  As Stiles watched, the small creases of frustration erased themselves from Lydia’s brow, and knew he was forgiven.  He sat down quickly and pulled out this weeks Physics notes ready for review.  Lydia was on her third bite of her muffin and about to take a fourth, but when she saw Stiles opening a book she put the food down and placed her hand on his arm.

“Can we please not talk about school?  With all the time I’ve spent avoiding listening to Allison complaining this week, I’m two weeks ahead in my school work.  I just need to discuss something other than Scott or mathematics,” Lydia confessed, blatantly using his weakness for her big, green eyes against him.

“Well, if you don’t want to talk school, what do you want to talk about?” Stiles asked, closing his book and pulling his half of the food towards himself.

“Anything.  You choose,” Lydia replied, grabbing her crisps and her drink.

“You could tell me about your obsession with anime.  I didn’t believe you when you first told me.  How are you even interested in that stuff?  How do you even have time?”  Stiles questioned, opening his crisps and tilting his head, indicating she could start whenever.

“Well, when I was little, I met this guy called Kanatsu,” Lydia began, and as she told her story, Stiles both smiled and laughed in the right places, enjoying the time they were spending together.

 

***

 

“Come on, man.  It’s just a party.  I really need to have some fun,” Scott wheedled.

“I already have plans tonight,” Stiles said firmly, trying to rebuff Scott’s fifth attempt today in securing his company as a wingman for tonight.

“What could be more important than enjoying a party full of booze and women?” Scott asked, clearly not picking up what Stiles was putting down.

“I missed English yesterday, and I need help catching up.  Allison isn’t speaking to me because she knows you’ll try to get me to communicate with her, and you’re not in AP.  That leaves Lydia who was nice enough to offer to help me tonight.  So, no.  I love you buddy, but you’re going to have to suck this one up.”  Scott sighed.  He knew Stiles was right, but it would take more than that for him to admit it.

“Fine.  Look, I’m going to be late for class.  If you change your mind, text me,” Scott told him, and turned away, leaving Stiles at his open locker.  He sighed, and then closed the door, zipping up his backpack and hoisting it onto his shoulder.  He hated that Scott was suffering, but his friend still hadn’t apologised to Allison.  Once that happened, everything would be over.  The problem was getting him to see that.  Stiles just made it into the classroom as the tardy bell rang, and started to concentrate on school work.  No point getting behind in another class when he really needed to spend some time with his best friend.

 

Stiles had left practice that afternoon and made his way back inside the school.  He and Lydia had arranged to meet at six, but when he turned into the hall where the library doors were, he saw a large, bright yellow piece of paper taped to the door.  The lights that normally shone through the glass in the doors was absent, and-- as Stiles got closer-- he realised that the place that both he and Lydia had come to rely on was closed for the day.  The paper only confirmed Stiles’ suspicions.

“Looks like we won’t be studying tonight,” Lydia’s voice made Stiles jump and he then realised that he hadn’t heard her approach.  Stiles turned to find that he was looking down at a much shorter Lydia than he usually saw.  He quickly realised why he hadn’t heard her approach.

“You’re not wearing heels,” Stiles said, dumbly.  Lydia snorted and Stiles’ mouth opened in shock.

“If I wore heels all the time, Stilinski, I would have serious arch problems.  Besides, I’m not actually opposed to flats.  Heels are just becoming of my legs,” Lydia said, examining her feet in the shoes she was currently wearing.  They were flat, expensive-looking and bright turquoise.

“Right.  Obviously,” Stiles said, not very subtly trailing his gaze up her legs.  He shook away the thoughts that she looked incredible both in and out of heels, and then caught back on to his earlier train of thought.  “So what are we going to do about my English deficiency, then?”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until Monday night,” Lydia said.  “Come on, let’s go.  Last time we were in the school this late a dark druid tried to kill me, and I’m definitely to pretty to die.”  

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Stiles said.  Lydia shrugged, then turned and began to walk back the way they had both come.  Stiles sighed and followed her, disappointed.  They wound their way through the corridors and out to the front of the school.  As they descended the steps an idea struck Stiles.  He ran it through quickly in his head and came to the conclusion that it was the best of his options for spending time with Lydia.  They had almost reached Lydia’s car before Stiles had formulated his question.

“I’ll see you on Monday, then,” Lydia told him, and went to open the driver’s side door.

“Wait,” Stiles said.  Lydia turned back to him with raised eyebrows.  “Why don’t we study at my place?  It’s pretty clean, my Dad’s out tonight and I really need help with English.”

Lydia’s brow furrowed.  She was obviously concerned about this decision.  Her teeth came out and chewed slightly on her bottom lip, thinking intensely.

“Please, Lydia?” Stiles asked, widening his brown eyes and using his full skills in creating a resemblance to a Labrador puppy.

“If you stop staring at me like you’re constipated, then I’ll do it,” Lydia said, turning back around and getting into her car.  Stiles snapped back into a normal face quickly.  Lydia turned on the engine, and then rolled down her window.  

“You do realise that you have to get into your car to study at your house, Stilinski?” she asked, obviously amused.  Stiles nodded and turned quickly, walked to his car and unlocked the door, before getting in and pulling out of the parking lot behind Lydia.  _Lydia Martin is coming to my house.  To study.  With me_ , Stiles thought.  Logically, he knew that she had been there before and that nothing was going to happen, but his fourteen year old self was cheering for Stiles’ success at fulfilling the fantasies that hormones had only encouraged.  Stiles shook the thoughts from his head and paid more attention to where he was driving.  Soon they would be focussed on English, and that was enough.

 

***

 

Stiles was calmly reading over the notes that Lydia had handed him fifteen minutes ago.  She had already taken him through the basics of the assignment that he had missed out on hearing explained and he was now doing a catch-up on the work that had been done in the lesson he missed.  They had been sitting at the Stilinski’s kitchen table for almost an hour, and Lydia was currently finishing her first draft of the assignment.  Suddenly, Stiles head a loud gurgling noise coming from Lydia’s vicinity.  He looked up to find her cheeks pink with a blush and one tiny hand resting over her stomach.

“Was that you,” Stiles asked, shocked that such a tiny girl could be so hungry.

“No!” Lydia exclaimed, turning back to her notes and trying to hide her face with her hair.

“Well, it wasn’t me, and our refrigerator hasn’t made that noise since Dad had it fixed a few months ago, so it must have been you,” Stiles said in a teasing voice.

“Fine.  Maybe I didn’t have time to eat after school today.  I had something to take care of,” Lydia confessed.  Stiles smiled.  He put down his notes and crossed to the refrigerator, pulling open the door and looking at the contents.

“How does chicken parmigiana, mashed potatoes and salad sound?” Stiles asked Lydia, as he started grabbing stuff and putting it on the bench, ready for preparation.

“Oh don’t worry about it, Stiles. Honestly, I’m fine,” Lydia said, looking conflicted.  Stiles snorted and shook his head.

“Lydia, it’s dinner, not a proposal of marriage.  Besides, I’m getting hungry too, and Dad’ll need something to eat when he gets home from work.  So, just let me do this,” Stiles told her.  Lydia still looked doubtful, but she nodded reluctantly and stood up to help.

“Don’t even think about it.  Lydia Martin doesn’t do menial labour.  Just finish your work and I’ll have dinner on the table in about forty-five minutes,” Stiles said, and started a flurry of peeling and chopping while Lydia looked on.  As she lowered herself back into her chair, Stiles caught sight of the small smile forming on Lydia’s face, seemingly against her will.  He smiled to himself too, happy knowing she was going to be feeling better soon.

 

Lydia had insisted that she help set the table, but Stiles wasn’t worried about that.  He was serving some of the food onto two plates.  The parmigiana’s were perfectly golden, the potatoes were creamy and smooth and the salad... well, it came out of a bag, but it was the thought that counted.  Stiles carried their plates over to the now ready table, and set one in front of the chair Lydia was residing in.  He quickly put his own down before topping off their water glasses from earlier and sitting down.  

“Well, dig in,” Stiles said.  He chuckled at Lydia’s gaze at her plate, picked up his own knife and fork and watched Lydia intently.  Lydia carefully cut a section of her parmigiana off and put some salad and potato on her fork too, daintily lifting it to her mouth and chewing.  She looked up from the first bite with her eyes sparkling.  It made Stiles’ chest feel like a balloon-- expanded and warm.  Elated with Lydia’s nonverbal response to his cooking, Stiles started to eat his own meal.  Ten minutes later, the first rush of eating wore off and Lydia, curious, asked him where he had learned to cook.  Stiles sighed.  This was a topic he usually left alone because it was so sensitive for both him and his father.  Stiles didn’t have many exceptional skills, but those that he did have he had learnt from someone who was no longer around.  Stiles knew that-- after everything that had happened over the past year-- he could trust Lydia.  But he didn’t want her to feel like she had upset him.  He loved his mother, and even though talking about her was a little painful, he knew that this was how she was remembered.

“From my Mum,” Stiles said, honestly.  Lydia put down her knife and fork and touched Stiles’ forearm with her hand.

“I’m so sorry.  I had no idea,” Lydia said sombrely, gripping his arm slightly.  

Stiles shrugged, “It's okay, Lydia.  It’s her way of being around now she’s gone.”

“I know it’s not the same, but I kind of wish my dad had tried to leave something behind like that.  It’s just me and Mum now, and I don’t really have anything that stands out as just his.  It’s nice that your mum could leave that with you,” Lydia said, giving Stiles a small grin.  Stiles chucked and nodded, before a sober look came over his face.

“My dad didn’t like it so much when Mum first died, though.  I freaked out.  Like, lentils and tofu freaking out.  I kept force feeding him health-food.  He was pretty good about it, though.  Still is.  The leftovers will be a huge treat for him, tonight,” Stiles reminisced.  Lydia’s small smile was still in place, but she retracted her arm and lifted her glass.

“To Mrs. Stilinski.  Gone but never forgotten,” Lydia toasted.  Stiles looked shocked, but mimicked her actions.  They clinked their glasses together and then both drank deeply, thanking the one who had gone before them for her legacy.

 

***

 

That was only the first of several working dinners which occurred between Stiles and Lydia.  Neither commented on the change in their relationship.  Both smiled more and looked forward to the evenings they spent together.  

 

***

 

Two weeks later, Stiles was at his locker fishing out his giant Chemistry textbook.  Because his locker was so close to the AP Chem classroom, he refused to carry it around.  He and Lydia usually met there, and walked into class together.  He heard her telltale footsteps (her heels always, always clicked) and he closed his locker before turning to give her a small smile.  She returned it.

“Got your book?  ‘Cause I swear if we’re late again I’m going to kick your ass, Stilinski,” Lydia threatened.  Stiles waved the book at her, and re-shouldered his backpack.

“Right here.  No more tardy’s for Lydia Martin,” Stiles joked, and Lydia shook her head before smiling anyway.

“You know it’s been Allison’s fault for accosting me for bitch sessions between lessons,” Lydia said in complaint.

“It’s cause you’ve been busy on her free evenings,” Stiles said, referring to the time they’d spent together studying and eating.  Though, Lydia couldn’t cook very well, so usually in the case of time spent at the Martin residence, pizza and Chinese take-out were staples.  If he was being honest, ever since that first dinner, the two of them had been spending even more time together than usual, because their houses-- unlike the library-- didn’t have a closing time.  Usually they met at six-ish and ended at nine, but now their houses were an option, they met at six and finished at ten or eleven at night, parting only to sleep.  Stiles had become accustomed to spending time with Lydia, and had cooked her more than one meal that week alone.

It was then that Stiles spotted Scott and Allison walking down the hallway together.  They were doing the kind of PDA that usually made him want to vomit.  Instead, he only felt sadness.  Lydia had spotted the pair as well.  A small sigh escaped Stiles’ lips and he turned back to Lydia.

“I guess this means the dinners are over,” Stiles said with a sad smile.  Lydia’s telltale forehead crease was forming as her pretty, green eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about Stilinski?  The reason we couldn’t see each other was because Scott and Allison wanted to spend time with us.  Now they’re back together they’ll want to see us even less than they did before the trouble in paradise.  It’s like another honeymoon period.  Unless my company offends you all of a sudden or something?” Lydia replied snarkily.

“No.  That’s not what I meant.  I just thought that since we don’t have to spend time at each other’s houses to get away from the fight, we could go back to the library,” Stiles explained quickly.  Lydia’s frown smoothed out slightly.

“Okay, Stiles.  I’m going to let you in on a secret here.  And you tell no one, understand?” she asked.

“Zipped, locked and key thrown away,” Stiles told her, miming the actions.  Lydia stilled his arm and looked at him.

“You know that I don’t have many real friends.  But I actually consider you one now.  So if you want that to continue, you are going to need to continue to prove that you’re worthy of my friendship.  That includes occasionally spending time with me in a social context, occasional shopping trips and the dinners.  If you’re still interested?” Lydia sounded confident, but somehow the last sentence came out more like a question than she was intending.  Stiles smiled.  

“Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily, Martin.  You’ll have to kill me before you could make me voluntarily abandon the dinners.  Although, with cooking skills like yours, I might just die anyway,” Stiles joked.  Lydia uncharacteristically pushed his side playfully and they both turned in sync to greet Allison and Scott who had reached them.

“Hey guys.  So, we made up.  We both realised we were being stupid,” Scott said, looking into Allison’s eyes and smiling almost hard enough to make Stiles forget the annoyance he had gone through in the last couple of weeks.

“Well, it’s about time,” Lydia said, and Stiles laughed.  Scott and Allison headed off to Chem 104 and Stiles and Lydia shared a smile before walking down the hallway together to AP Chemistry.  

 

Stiles was so content that even the Coach yelling at him that afternoon in practice couldn’t dampen the warm glow that had formed in his chest.  Lydia was obviously happy too, because when she pulled her front door open for him two hours later, Stiles could smell Nachos-- one of his favourites.  He dropped his heavy backpack next to the door as per usual, and followed Lydia into the kitchen with a big smile on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

VI

 

Give and Take

 

Lydia was lying on her bed studying.  She and Stiles had been rotating between their houses, and today it was her turn to play host.  They’d eaten a snack after school (well, Stiles had consumed half a packet of chips, and Lydia had nibbled on some celery and peanut butter) and then they had gone up to her room, as was their custom.  Lydia had taken refuge on her bed, and Stiles took his usual place at her desk.  Three hours in, Stiles had taken a break and they had discussed a new book she was reading on astrophysics, and the new graphic novel Stiles was obsessed with for the allotted half-hour.  Then they had both gone back to studying, and had been at peace doing so for about 45 minutes.  Lydia looked up from her Chemistry homework to see that Stiles was not reading the notes she had given him on particle physics, and was instead playing with one of her makeup brushes.  He had been unusually quiet all afternoon, but Lydia had thought nothing of it until now.  She had seen a relatively tranquil Stiles before, but she had never seen him this interested in her beauty products.  At least, not recently.

“Is there something wrong?  Or do you just have an inkling to become a cross-dresser these days?” Lydia asked.

Stiles smiled slightly, obviously appreciating her joke before saying, “you have to promise not to tell anyone.  I don’t want them thinking that I am any less of a man.”

Lydia laughed and replied, “they won’t hear it from me.  Now, as strange as this is, I actually know you pretty well Stiles, so quit it with the bluster and tell me what’s actually going on.”  The small line between Stiles’ eyebrows creased further, but Stiles reluctantly admitted what was going on.

“My dad’s working on Thanksgiving.”

Lydia drew in a breath.  She and Stiles had never explicitly discussed what happened to his mother, but she knew that holidays were a volatile time for the Stilinski household.  One thing that she did know, though, was that when they were in Primary school, every year Stiles would come to school with a gigantic basket of cookies with icing turkeys piped onto them and give everybody one.  Until the year his mother passed away.  It took someone as smart as Lydia to figure out that Thanksgiving was both the best and worst day of the year for Stiles.  In one way, it was the time of year where Stiles had the best memories of his mother.  He probably helped bake and ice the biscuits, baste the turkey and prepare the cranberry jelly.  But, because it was obviously his mother’s favourite holiday, there was also the evident and painful fact that she was no longer there to make the day special.  And, so, Stiles was going to be completely alone on the day he reserved to grieve his mother.  Lydia sat up on the bed and patted the duvet next to her.  Stiles moved and sat, hands on his knees.  Lydia lifted his left arm and cautiously slid her arms around his waist, silently giving permission for him to hug her.  Stiles did, enclosing her in his warmth and tucking his face into her hair.  Lydia rubbed circles into his back with one tiny hand.  When they pulled apart, Lydia took one of Stiles’ hands in both of hers.

“I know it’s only a holiday.  But I miss her.  She used to make the day seem so important and special,” Stiles said, looking at his feet.

“You don’t have to explain it.  I understand,” Lydia told him.  “After Mum and Dad got divorced we only ever celebrate holidays as a way for them to try and get back at each other.  Last Christmas was the worst.  Dad bought me this ridiculously expensive handbag, so Mum decided to trade in my car for a new model.  I honestly don’t even care about the stuff anymore.  So I understand the loss.”

“I really, really miss her, Lydia.  I know it’s only one day out of a year, but it was her favourite.  And I can’t even see a turkey without thinking of her,” Stiles’ voice cracked on the word turkey.

“I remember in grade school when you used to bring in those amazing cookies.  You used to give one to the whole class.  Even the kids who picked on you,” Lydia reminisced.  Stiles smiled.

“Our teacher actually asked me once why I did that.  I told her that even bad people deserve turkey on Thanksgiving because it’s about being grateful for what you have.  Even bad people can be grateful for something.  She ended up sending my Mum home a note to tell her what I’d said, and Mum laughed and said she was proud of me.  She loved to laugh,” Stiles told Lydia.  He raised one hand and scrubbed it across his eyes, wiping away the moisture that had been forming.  Lydia squeezed the hand that remained in hers and gave a tiny smile.  It was then that she decided to solve both their problems.

“Hey, Stiles?  Why don’t you come here for Thanksgiving?  Mum and I usually order the dinner, but if your mother cooked, I’m sure she has recipes.  Not to mention the fact that the only time my parents don’t harass me is when I’m with a friend.  So we can celebrate your mum together.”  Lydia knew this was a good idea.  The look that Stiles gave her only confirmed it.

“Actually, yeah.  I’d really like that.  And Mum did leave a whole bunch of recipes behind.  Dad and I usually cook them, ‘cause it’s the only day I let him off the hook with his diet, apart from Christmas and his birthday,” Stiles said, his usual infectious smile back on his face.  Lydia smiled back at him, before squeezing his hand once again and then releasing it. 

“I need to finish my homework so you need to go and read those notes I painstakingly typed for you.  But I’ll see you on Wednesday next week at 10 a.m. sharp.  Be ready to cook like you’ve never cooked before,” Lydia said, rolling onto her stomach and picking up her pen once again.

 

***

 

Lydia and Stiles were surveying the island counter in Lydia’s kitchen.  Stiles had given her a list the day after they had decided to cook dinner together, and Lydia had collected everything on it late last night.  She and Stiles had decided to surprise her mother with a home-cooked dinner, so Lydia had conspiratorially said she was studying late last night and had instead gone shopping, knowing her mother never used the kitchen in the mornings. Stiles had done his part by preparing several ingredients that they would not have time to do today.  Anything non-perishable had been placed on the island, and Lydia had also left out the turkey last night to allow it to defrost.  The result was a gigantic pile of food that the two of them had approximately nine hours to prepare.  Lydia hoped to God that Stiles remembered the order to do things in, because she was feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

“Any bright ideas on how to deal with this, Stilinski?” she asked, turning her head to look at him.  Stiles let out a laugh and nodded, before starting to spout off instructions like there was no tomorrow.

“Okay,” he said, unwrapping the now thawed turkey.  “I’m going to wash this bird because we need to get it on as soon as possible.  Can you start tearing up that loaf of bread for the stuffing?  The recipe for it is in the book in my backpack.”  Lydia nodded at him, and Stiles turned to wash the turkey.  He seemed to be holding up pretty well, all things considered.  Lydia just wanted to make sure he was okay.  Stiles had been with her through so much in the last year that she knew she owed him more than just the help she was giving him with school.  He had literally saved her life on several occasions.  He meant so much more to her than she ever thought he would.  And that’s why today was so important to Lydia.  This was her chance to rescue him for a change.  Lydia unzipped the backpack-- digging under the fresh pair of jeans and button down shirt that Stiles obviously intended to change into after cooking all day-- and pulling out a beautiful leather-bound notebook that was held closed by a simple clasp.  Lydia’s eyes widened.  This was no ordinary book, but something that Stiles’ mother had treasured.  She ran her hand over the cover, thinking of all the times that Claudia Stilinski’s hands must have done the same thing.  Lydia unfastened the clasp with great care and folded back the cover.  There-- on the first page of the thick, white paper-- was the stuffing recipe.  She reverently placed the book on the windowsill in front of the place she was working to make sure it wasn’t damaged, and began to follow the clear, concise instructions written in elegant handwriting that was surprisingly similar to Stiles’.  Lydia took the cornbread that Stiles had made last night and broke it apart, placing it into a large bowl as she was instructed by the book.  A clattering behind her told Lydia that Stiles had dropped the baking tray, and at his humorous assurances that he was fine she giggled.  _I’m glad he’s okay_ , she thought, meaning more than just the fact that he hadn’t injured himself.  _God knows he could use something to smile about_.

 

***

 

Lydia could smell the rosemary in the stuffing already.  The turkey had only been in for about an hour, but the skin was already starting to turn a slightly golden colour and it smelled great.  She and Stiles were side by side at the double sink, peeling potatoes and yams.  It was a quarter past twelve in the afternoon, but despite the time neither Lydia or Stiles had complained of being hungry yet.  It had taken both of their skills combined to stuff and seal the turkey before they put it into the oven, but their flushed cheeks and dirty hands had been worth it.  Lydia had put some music on in the background after they had dealt with the turkey, and the soft tones of ambient music were floating through the room, accompanying the ‘shick’ sounds the peelers were making.  Lydia hummed along, and started to sway slightly on the spot-- an old habit from ballet lessons.   The silence between them was comfortable.  She was torn between making sure she didn’t hurt herself with her own peeler, and watching Stiles’ deft hands, skinning the potatoes with a skill that spoke of years of practice in the activity.  Her hand almost slipped on the peeler, but luckily Stiles didn’t notice.  He started speaking, still quietly concentrated on the task at hand.

“So, thanks for today,” Stiles said, quietly.  “If I have to spend the day with a narcissist, I’m glad it’s you and not my own brain.”  Lydia snorted, and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, if I have to spend the day with a geek, I’m glad it’s you and not Spock.  Although, he would argue that the term geek is illogical,” she said.

“Did you just make a Star Trek reference?” Stiles asked, obviously shocked and pleased.

“My dad and I used to watch it when I was little,” Lydia told him, smirking.  Stiles smiled at her.

“Mum and I did too,” he said, but the smile didn’t fall.  Lydia’s smirk changed to a real smile, and she knew that today was helping to heal the hole in Stiles’ heart.

 

***

 

It was five minutes to seven.  Lydia’s mother had gotten back about an hour and a half ago, and Lydia had told her to go and get ready to go out for dinner.  Mrs. Martin hadn’t noticed anything amiss, and readily agreed, reminding Lydia to come and get her when she was ready before heading upstairs.  Lydia and Stiles had both showered and changed out of their food-covered cooking clothes.  Now dressed in more appropriate wear, they were preparing the table.  Lydia had set it with their best plates, complete with cloth napkins and wine glasses.  Even her grandmother’s silver was polished to a gleam.  As Stiles placed the last dish onto the table, Lydia’s mother entered the room putting an earring into her ear.  At the sight of the food on the table, she stopped in her tracks.

“Lydia, are you ready to head out for din--” she trailed off, looking between her daughter and Stiles.  “How?” she asked, obviously gobsmacked.

“Hi Mrs. Martin.  Um, I hope you have room in your refrigerator for leftovers.  My mum used to make the best Thanksgiving dinners, and Lydia thought that it might be nice to make a home-cooked one this year,” Stiles told her, fidgeting slightly.

“Lydia?  Is that true?” Mrs. Martin asked her daughter.

“Well, we usually just go out for dinner.  And Stiles’ dad is working tonight, so I figured it might be fun to spend the day doing something other than schoolwork,” Lydia said, honestly.  She hadn’t thought that her mother would mind, but she was nervous now.  She realised about three seconds later that she didn’t need to be.  Her mother smiled gently at her, and moved to give her a hug.

“Everything looks wonderful,” she told her daughter, kissing Lydia’s hair.  “It’s nice to see you again Stiles.”

“You too, Mrs. Martin,” Stiles said, pulling out a chair for Lydia’s mother, and gesturing for her to sit.  She gave him an approving smile, and seated herself in the chair.  Stiles also pulled out Lydia’s chair before sitting himself down in the seat facing her.  Lydia smiled at Stiles, and handed him the carving utensils, which he put to good use.

 

 

***

 

The plate in Lydia’s hands was warm compared to the air outside.  She had on a small cardigan, but she was shivering in the breeze.  Stiles had unlocked his car and was putting his bag on the floor in front of the passenger seat.  Lydia was looking upwards, into the surprisingly inky depths of the night sky.  Beacon Hills was classified as a city, but somehow the light pollution was minimal enough so that you could still see the stars.  She heard the door of Stiles’ Jeep slam shut, and she lowered her head to look at him.  He turned to face her, pulling on a familiar red hoodie she recognised as his favourite.  Their eyes met and Lydia gave a smile, which Stiles returned.

“So thanks for today.  I haven’t had that much fun on Thanksgiving in a while,” Stiles said.

“You’re more than welcome.  Besides, I think we have enough leftovers to feed a small army.  Or at least enough so that Mum won’t have to cook for a few days.  And that’s a pretty good thing, too,” Lydia joked.  Stiles chuckled awkwardly, and shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“So,” he said, trailing off.

“Right, you’ve gotta go.  This is for your Dad.  So he doesn’t miss out on the good stuff,” Lydia said, handing over the dish of food.  Stiles took it from her and began to walk around to his side of the car.  Lydia followed him.  Stiles opened his door, and placed the plate onto the passenger seat.  Then he turned back to Lydia and opened his arms.  Lydia stepped into them, and wrapped her arms around his waist and let him banish the cold from her form.  Before they separated, Lydia leaned up and pecked his cheek chastely.

“Goodnight, Stilinski,” she said, and walked back through the front door, closing it.  With her back against the wood, Lydia let out the breath she was holding.  

 

She didn’t wait to see Stiles’ confused touch to his cheek, or the goofy grin that crossed his face before he hopped into the car and drove home.  And she definitely didn’t see what he did to his body alone in his room that night; recalling her smell and her touch; gasping her name as he came.


	7. Chapter 7

VII

 

Under the Mistletoe

 

 

The windows of his room were frosted over for the third time that week, Stiles mused as he pulled his sweater over his head.  Stiles had never really minded winter, seeing it as an excuse to stay in and watch movies.  After Thanksgiving three weeks ago, Stiles had only become closer to Lydia.  She had been right when she said that Scott and Allison spent even more time with each other, and the unlikely pair had made the best of the time they spent together.  Stiles was teaching Lydia how to cook (a harder task then it sounded), and Lydia had taken Stiles shopping for both of their respective wardrobes.  Today, though, he was heading out for their final study session before the Christmas break.  And to give her the present he had been hiding in the top of his closet ever since it had arrived two weeks previously.  He took the damp towel off his bed and ran it through his hair, before carding a hand through it to make it stand up and hooking the towel over the hook on his door.  Then, shouldering his backpack containing a festively wrapped parcel and some school books, he picked up his keys and left the empty house, locking the door behind him.  

 

As Stiles got into his Jeep and turned on the cheap heating system as high as it would go, he was glad that the present was in his bag.  He had contemplated long and hard whether or not to get Lydia a present.  Stiles had always loved her, that fact was clear, but now he knew her, which was a foreign concept for him.  And, because he knew her so well, he knew that Lydia wasn’t a fan of Christmas because of what it represented to her; an excuse for her parents to use her as a pawn in their post-marital argument.  For all the analysis that he had gone through, when he turned onto Lydia’s street and pulled into her driveway, he knew he had made the right decision.  She had taken the saddest day of his year and filled it with laughter again.  When he had gone home that night, he had dreamt of the memories he had of his mother.  She had smiled in the dream, her eyes sparkling with the light of her favourite holiday and the company of her beloved son.  Stiles had woken with tears in his eyes.  That was the moment when he knew that he had to do for Lydia what she had done for him; he had to make sure she knew that at least one person got her something she hadn’t asked for, but would love because it meant something to her personally.  Not just a big, shiny car or a new handbag.

Stiles knocked, and Lydia opened the door wide, letting him into her house.  

“Is that actual gingerbread I smell,” Stiles asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Lydia told him, motioning to the kitchen.  “I figured you were probably hungry.  Since you usually always are.”  Stiles followed her, his stomach rumbling at the warm smell wafting through the house.

 

***

 

Stiles is halfway through an essay on Edgar Allan Poe when Lydia says, “So I kind of got you something.”  His face obviously betrayed his surprise, because she hurried on with, “It’s not major or anything.  But since we’re friends I wanted to get you something to say thanks for being there when I needed you.  And, you know, ‘tis the season and all that.”

Stiles broke into loud laughter.  Lydia wasn’t particularly happy with that, and frowned slightly before raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Lydia.  I’m not laughing at you, I promise.  I actually bought you something too,” Stiles replied, fishing his clumsily wrapped present out of his backpack.  Lydia’s forehead smoothed out, and she smiled, getting up and pulling a rectangular-shaped, bow-topped Christmas box from under her bed.  

“You first,” Stiles said, after the gifts were given to their recipients.

“Okay,” Lydia replied eagerly, pulling back the paper.  As Stiles watched, her eyes widened and she drew in a breath.  Wrapping her hands around the gray fabric that was sitting in the remains of the wrappings, she unfolded the large sweatshirt.

“Oh my God,” Lydia said, her hands flying to her mouth.  The sweatshirt in front of her was now fully spread out so the bold red text on the front proclaiming ‘Stanford’ was facing upwards.  Green met brown and she asked, “how did you even know that’s where I applied?”

“When we first started studying you left me in here for a few minutes one day because your mother wanted to talk to you.  I may or may not have looked around and noticed that you had a brochure on your desk that was particularly worse for wear.  I double checked and it was the 2010 catalogue.  So, when I thought about your present a couple of weeks ago, I figured this was something that you might not need, but that you’d enjoy,” Stiles told her.  “Besides, if anyone is going to get into Stanford on academic merit alone, it’s going to be you, Lydia.  Hell, I might even get in if you keep tutoring me in Physics.”

Lydia stood up from the bed and grabbed Stiles’ hands, pulling him up from his seat in her desk chair.  Stiles looked down at her in confusion, but quickly responded when she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and buried her face in his chest.  Stiles soaked up her warmth and the smell of the perfume she always wore, trying desperately to slow his racing pulse.  It was all good and well when they were joking around or studying, but when Lydia poured herself into him and pressed their bodies together he was as nervous and awkward as he used to be.  When she pulled back, he hands still on his waist, her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

“Thanks, Stiles,” she said, thickly, and sniffed and blinked away the tears.  Stiles smiled and gave her another squeeze, before letting her move back to the bed.  She looked at him expectantly, and he picked up the present she had given him.  It was beautifully wrapped in shiny green paper and tied with red ribbon-- in other words, it was entirely Lydia.  Stiles made quick work of the bow, and then found the tiny slivers of tape that held the paper together, carefully peeling back the wrappings.  When he saw the cover of the book he smiled.  “You got me a health food book?” Stiles asked, laughter in his voice.

“Well, it’s actually more of a recipe book.  My grandfather had a heart attack about four years ago, and this is the thing that Grandma used to make sure that he wasn’t eating bad food behind his back.  It’s full of tips to make healthy meals taste better without adding anything that’s bad for you,” Lydia explained.  “I thought your dad might appreciate some flavour in the tofu.”

It was one of the most thoughtful gifts that Stiles had ever been given.  Not only was it something unexpected, it was something that he could use.  The look that was shared between them was warm, and crackled like a new log on a fire.

“Thanks, Lyds.  Really.  Best present ever,” Stiles said, his voice cracking slightly.  Stiles was almost speechless, a trait only Lydia seemed to cause in him, but he knew that she knew what this present was for him.  It was a way to acknowledge his pain, but to help him make the best of an awful truth.  Not too long after that, Stiles and Lydia returned to studying, both with smiles on their faces.

 

***

 

Anyone who watched Stiles and Lydia together could see how they burned for each other.  Despite the absence of her usual coquettishness, Lydia gave more genuine smiles to Stiles in a day than she used to give to Jackson in a week.  So, when they parted ways on the doorstep that night, anyone who was watching closely would have noticed Stiles’ hands shook just a little when Lydia pecked him on the cheek.  Or the way that Lydia twirled a curl around her finger and looked out from under her long eyelashes.  Or even-- after they had both gone to their respective homes-- the way their showers were turned on, and any music was turned up so that the muffled moans and grunts of two sexually frustrated people were not heard by unsuspecting family members.  But-- even after all of this was done and the respective parties were lying in their beds, with lights dimmed-- the way that Lydia noticed hoe Stiles’ smell lingered on the fabric of the oversized sweater she was curled up in, or the spark in Stiles’ eyes as he devoured the book that Lydia had given him could not be ignored.

 

Fate is a funny thing to think about.  They say that life never gives us anything we can’t handle.  But for the two teenagers who were being drawn together like the moon pulls the tides, there would not be peace forever.  Because even as Lydia breathed in the smell of the shirt she was in, the first time she had noticed the woodsy, pine-tree smell of Stiles had been several years before they had become friends.  And-- Lydia acknowledged-- there would come a time where she would have to reveal the truth.


	8. Chapter 8

VIII

 

For Times Gone By

 

 

It wasn’t snowing, but the icy wind of northern California bit through Lydia’s woollen stockings as she made her way across the street to Starbucks on Wednesday morning.  It was the 29th of December, and the New Year was right around the corner.  Today she and Allison were going out shopping and taking advantage of the post-Christmas sales.  Stepping into the warm air of the coffee house, she looked around and found Allison’s familiar face smiling at her, a hand waving in the air.  Lydia returned her smile, and made her way over to the booth, exchanging a hug with her friend before sliding in on the opposite side to Allison and wrapping her hands around the macchiato that Allison had ordered for her.

“Hey, Lydia.  How was your Christmas?” Allison asked, a smile in her voice.  The girls had exchanged presents before Christmas, but they hadn’t had a chance to talk much over the break so far due to other commitments.

“It went okay.  Mum and Dad didn’t yell at each other this year, and the total spending came to just under one thousand.  I think my parenting lessons are teaching them well,” Lydia told her.  Allison smiled.

“I’m glad.  By the way, thanks for the present.  I absolutely adore the colours you got me,” Allison said, wiggling her fingers in Lydia direction and showing off her bright purple fingernails.

“Not a problem.  I wore the blouse you gave me to the family Christmas dinner.  My cousin Erin loved it so much she actually cried when I told her it was a limited edition,” Lydia giggled.  

“Well, the top was practically made for you.  You always look amazing in green,” Allison complimented.

“I know,” Lydia winked at her and they both burst into laughter.

“Actually, I know I wasn’t the only one giving you clothes for Christmas.  How’s your new sweater?” Allison asked, coyly.  Lydia blushed and took a sip of her coffee.  The truth was, she had worn it to bed every night since she had gotten it.  It was warm, super soft and it smelled like Stiles- woodsy and warm, like pine needles in the rain.

“Warm,” Lyda said, giving Allison and cheeky smile.  Allison rolled her eyes.  Lydia knew that Allison wouldn’t push it, but she wasn’t ready to admit to everyone how she felt about Stiles.  Even to her closest friends.

 

***

 

The shopping trip had been very successful, Lydia thought as she pulled up the zip on the cream dress and then turned to face her bedroom mirror.  As she took in the ruffles in the bodice, and fingered the flowing skirt her mind was not on how the dress looked.  Her mind was on Stiles, as it had been for the past week.  She had kissed him.  It didn’t matter how many years ago it had happened, she had still done it.  And-- even though all she had wanted at the time was to share it with Jackson-- when she thought about that kiss her heartbeat went up.  Her best friend Kelly had moved away in the middle of 9th grade, but before then she and Lydia had been inseparable.  It was from Kelly that Lydia had learned all about kissing, and how awful first kisses usually were.  But then she had had hers.

 

_Lydia closed the cupboard door behind her, and then shuffled into the group of people waiting outside the cupboard, wiping the lipgloss smudged above her upper lip.  Kelly latched onto her arm and pulled her away from the hall and into the kitchen.  Lydia was still dazed, and stumbled along behind her, before her friend turned to face her with a large grin, saying, “so, how was it?”_

_Lydia raised her eyes to Kelly’s, and told her, “amazing.  I mean, I know he’s a dork, but it totally wasn’t gross at all.  It was kind of weird in that way that makes you want to do it again.”_

 

Lydia was pulled back into the present when her phone chimed to signal a message, but when she went to answer it, she caught sight of the dopey smile on her face.  At the time, she had been shell-shocked.  Now all she wanted to do was find out if he was still that good.  Picking up her phone, she read the message.  It was Stiles.

 

_Are you going to Greenburg’s NYE party?_

 

She texted back:

 

_Yes we are.  You can pick me up at 8. x_

 

She knew the kiss was overkill, but at that moment and after re-living the kiss, she knew she had to start taking steps to tell him how she felt.  And she knew it was worth it when she got his reply.

 

_I love a bossy woman ;)  See you then._

 

***

 

The fresh gloss on Lydia’s lips shone in the hallway light as she pulled her front door open for Stiles.  He was waiting with a smile and a offered arm, and after Lydia pulled on her coat she took it.  

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Lydia thanked him, smiling.  

“No worries.  Besides, I wasn’t planning on drinking anyway, so I may as well make myself useful,” Stiles joked, pulling open the passenger side door.  Lydia laughed and got inside, quickly crossing her ankles over each other as Stiles got into his own seat and started the engine.

“No, seriously.  I mean it.  I could have gone with Allison.  So, thanks,” Lydia said honestly.  Stiles just returned her smile and concentrated on the road.

 

***

 

“I never kissed someone more than five years older than me,” said Scott, his eyes carefully browsing around the circle.  Lydia downed the rest of her drink and gave her friends a challenging look.

“Jeez, Lyds.  You’ve had a lot of experiences,” Allison teased.

“What can I say?”  Lydia said, cheekily.  “I’m an adventurous kind of gal.”  The game of I Never had been going for a while, and Lydia had gone through two glasses of light beer already, her nose crinkling up whenever she took a sip.  Her head was pleasantly clear of her usual cloud of thought, but she was nowhere near drunk.  They had gone through embarrassing pasts, awkward parental moments and now they were onto the inevitable-- sex questions.  

“It’s my turn.  I never had sex in a public place,” Lydia said, refilling her cup.  She drew the line at the outdoors.  Scott and Allison turned red, and both of them took a tentative sip from their cups.  The whole group burst into laughter, including Lydia and Stiles who both smiled at their friends.

“In our defence, no one was actually around,” Scott said, wrapping his arm around his girlfriend.  Allison just buried her face in his shoulder.   Allison was about to take her turn when Greenburg called out, “hey, guys.  It’s five minutes to midnight, so everyone grab a drink and head outside.  There’s going to be fireworks.”  Lydia walked over to the drinks table, measured out a shot of Vodka, a shot of Cointreau and three of cranberry juice before adding a squeeze of lime to the shaker and straining her Cosmopolitan into a glass.  As she turned around, Stiles caught her eye, and she pulled a soda out of one of the coolers for him and made her way over to him.

“Come with me,” she told him, handing off the soda and grabbing his hand.  For the first time since she had noticed their elegance, Lydia felt the wiry muscles in his fingers and the callouses that came from playing Lacrosse.  

“Where are we going?” Stiles asked her, climbing the stairs behind her.

“I’ve been to a lot of parties here, and the porch is going to be so crowded.  But, I also know that there is a terrace up here that no one ever uses.  Trust me, I checked,” Lydia confessed.  They made their way through the upstairs halls and came to the familiar glass door, which Lydia unlocked and opened.  Stiles followed her through it and together they moved to step up against the railing, each holding their drinks and enjoying the space.  The noise from downstairs was audible, but somehow it seemed dimmed.  Lydia shivered and Stiles wraped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.  She brought her arm up around his waist.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling up at him.  When their gazes met, the air between them sizzled, and Lydia couldn’t feel the December (soon to be January) cold.  Lydia felt her stomach drop.  But then the countdown started.  Ten, nine, eight...  She had to tell him.  Lydia took a deep breath and turned to look at him.  Stiles was staring up at the night, happily waiting for the fireworks.

“Stiles?” Lydia asked, huskily, her voice cracking slightly.  Stiles blinked, and slowly looked away from the sky and down to her.  As her eyes met his, Lydia bit her lip.  She couldn’t do it.  Looking back at her was so much warmth and kindness it was like being wrapped in a blanket with a mug of hot tea between her fingers.

“Yeah, Lydia?” Stiles said into her silence.  Lydia took his hand and squeezed it with her own.  She opened her mouth.  And then... “one!  Happy New Year!”  The chorus echoed out over the Greenburg’s property.

“Just...  Happy New Year, Stiles,” she said, smiling softly before rising on her tiptoes and kissing him on his cheek.  Stiles smiled back down at her.

“Happy New Year,” he agreed, taking his hand from hers and wrapping it around her shoulder.  He pulled her into his side, and then looked back up to the sky again as the show started.  Lydia searched his face for a few minutes in the green and blue lights, but soon joined him looking at the heavens, now only filled with stars.  As she leaned into him, Lydia tried to get rid of the feelings of guilt and enjoy their time together.  But-- somehow-- the niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach refused to go away.  As she breathed in the pine needles and rain smell and leaned her head on his shoulder she knew that before she told him how she felt about him, she had to tell him what had happened between them nearly four years ago.  The stars winked in agreement.

 

***

 

As the blue Jeep pulled up to the curb of her house, Lydia realised that she hadn’t asked Stiles if he had any goals for the year.

“Have you made any resolutions yet?” she asked, turning to meet his gaze.

“I want to get into a good school.  I think I can.   I already got a 1350 on my SAT’s, but to get in I need to keep my marks up,” Stiles confessed.  “I wasn’t really all that motivated in the last couple of years.”  Lydia gave a wry smirk.

“Well, with my ex-boyfriend being a homicidal lizard and a dark druid trying to kill us, one might see how that could be a problem,” she joked.  Stiles snorted slightly, and shook his head.  “I guess we’ll just have to keep studying together,” she said.  

“I’d like that,” Stiles told her.  Lydia gave him a warm smile and kissed his cheek.  Then, before he could say anything, she hopped out of the cab and unlocked her front door.  She turned to wave, and then Stiles was gone.  But an hour later when she was clean and wrapped up in her quilt he was there again, his smell on her sweater as she drifted off to sleep.

 


	9. Chapter 9

IX

 

Blindfold Untied

 

 

“Lydia kissed me,” Stiles said.  He and Scott had been playing video games all day long, and they were taking a much needed break and grabbing some pizza in town.  Scott choked on his soda and Stiles slapped him on the back as he coughed.

“Seriously?  When did this happen?” Scott asked, looking both shocked and delighted.

“Yes, seriously.  Am I that un-kissable, Scott?”  Stiles snarked, still keeping one detail from him.

“Of course not, Stiles,” Scott said.  Stiles snickered.  “Not that I’m interested or the best person to ask.  I just never expected her to make the first move,” Scott cleared up his statement, smiling at his best friend.

“Well, it was on the cheek.  But she did it twice.  At Greenburg’s party,” Stiles told Scott.  Scott’s eyes widened and then he punched his friend on the shoulder.

“You asshole.  I nearly choked for a kiss on the _cheek_!”

“Two,” Stiles corrected.  “And they were that lingering kind that Allison does when she wants to get you into bed.”  Stiles had wanted so badly to take advantage of the moment he and Lydia had alone.  Her lips had been pink and slightly chapped from the dry winter air, and her long red hair had been straightened out just waiting for him to run his hand through it.  But he didn’t know if she was completely over Jackson yet (despite her joke about it) and he was awkward and she was breathtaking.  

“So you’re telling me that you disappeared with an absolutely gorgeous girl who gave you an ‘I want to be ravished’ kiss and you did nothing about it?  Dude you are so stupid,” Scott surmised, snorting.

“I’m not saying I didn’t _want_ to kiss her.  I just...  I’m not sure where her head is.  I love her, man,” Stiles said.  Scott’s eyes widened.  A dopey smile appeared on his face, and Stiles knew he was going to be suffering from that confession for a while.

“Really?  Even after finding out all the gory details?  And knowing how much of a control freak she is?”

Stiles smiled and said, “yeah.  I like that she takes charge.  I find it so sexy.  Especially when she gets that crinkle between-”

“Okay, I really don’t need to hear about Lydia’s bits and pieces,” Scott cut him off.

“I was going to say eyes, dumbass,” Stiles said.  “Honestly, if she allowed me to see her ‘bits and pieces’ I would so not have been playing COD with you today.”

“Okay, way too much info dude,” Scott laughed, and elbowed Stiles.  Stiles just picked up a slice of pizza and started eating again and the conversation moved to more trivial topics.

 

***

 

Stiles was running, his long legs a blur and his feet pounding against the pavement in a strong tempo.  He had been particularly jittery over the past few days and there was only so much that Adderall could do when his emotional state was involved.  After New Years he had kept quiet about the kiss, and both he and Lydia had been busy with other things and hadn’t really had time to talk.  So, after Stiles told Scott how he felt about Lydia he had been itching with frustration because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Lydia herself.  On one hand, he knew that the adoration he had developed for her as a child had become this full-on, ginormous love that he felt today.  On the other... he couldn’t think of a negative for her.

 

She warmed his heart every time he looked at her.  She lit him up like a flame on a candle.  It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, either-- although it helped.  Lydia was a bitch to a lot of people, but when she let someone in she protected them as fiercely as a mother wolf protecting her cubs.  If you were special to Lydia, she would fight for you.  Stiles had seen first hand how she cared for him.  Her compassion around Thanksgiving had astounded him and filled part of the empty space left behind when his mother had left.  She always looked and smelled incredible, too.  Stiles had done some snooping around, and she wore something designer that came in a bottle shaped like an apple and smelled sweet.  He couldn’t get enough.  Whenever she leant into him or gave him a hug his shirts always smelled like her, and he refused to wash them until the smell was gone.  He knew he seemed crazy.  But he loved her.  For all the good and bad in her.

 

Stiles slowed to a walk for the last 500 meters and then entered his house.

“Dad, I’m home,” he called.

“I’m in the kitchen, Stiles,” Sheriff Stilinski’s muffled voice echoed down the hall to Stiles.  He found his father at the kitchen counter with a few police files and his computer, obviously finishing off some reports at home.

“Hey, Dad.”

“How are you doing, Stiles?  Good run?” Sheriff Stilinski asked his son, folding the top of his computer screen down a ways.

“Not bad.  Just thinking, I guess.  How was work?”

“Busy, as usual.  I’m almost done with these reports, so how about you and I go out for dinner?  We haven’t had Indian in a while, and I’ve been craving some beef Korma.”  Stiles smiled and nodded.

“Let me take a quick shower first,” he said, turning around.

“Oh, and son?  Don’t think too hard about her.  She might surprise you,” the Sheriff said, smiling at his son’s surprised look and quickly adjusting his computer screen to concentrate on his work again.  Stiles shook his head and quickly climbed the stairs, eager to have a shower and get to the promised food.

 

***

 

Stiles was lying on his back beside Lydia on her king-size bed.  They had been studying, but they were taking a much deserved break.  Lydia’s mom had cooked them a light dinner, and now Lydia was online and Stiles was watching her and listening to the music that was tinkling quietly from the speakers in the corner of the room.  They’d been at it for about half an hour when Lydia closed the lid of her MacBook with a sigh and sat up facing Stiles, crossing her legs.  She had a nervous look to her face and she was biting the inside of her left cheek; Stiles had noticed this was the closest to an imperfect habit that she had.

“What’s up?” he asked, curious.

“I have to tell you something.  And I’m not sure if you’re going to like it,” Lydia said, her eyes not meeting his.  Stiles was wary, now.  Lydia was serious by nature, but never really expressed her concern unless something particularly bad was going to happen.

“Okay.  Shoot,” even Stiles noted the tremor in his voice.  Lydia’s eyes finally met his.

“Are you still a virgin?” she said.

“That’s a question, not a statement Lydia.  How imprecise of you,” Stiles replied, trying to lighten the mood and avoid the question.  Lydia didn’t let him get away with it.

“That’s avoidance, not an answer Stilinski.  Just answer the question.”

“Yes, okay?  Yes, I’m still a virgin.  When would I ever have time to have sex with anyone.  I’m always with you,” Stiles said, his cheeks flushing.

“Okay, and there’s nothing wrong with that.  But how far have you been with a girl?” Lydia’s eyes hadn’t moved from his face.

“Someone’s inquisitive today.”

“Please, Stiles.  I promise it’s germane to the discussion,” Lydia looked earnest now.  Stiles had only seen this look on her face once before- the night she had come to him for help with Jackson.  It was just as painful now.

“Well, I touched a breast last year.  And, jeez, those things are heavy.  I have no idea how you lot don’t have back problems.  But that’s it,” Stiles finally met Lydia’s eyes again.  There was warmth there.  And something that looked a lot like... well... he didn’t want to jinx it.

“Best kiss you ever had?”  Green and brown were still mixing.

“This is going to sound so stupid.”  Stiles was embarrassed by this answer.  

“Stiles, I trust you.  So, can you trust me?”  _Yes_.

“My first kiss,” Stiles confessed, reluctantly.  “I don’t even know who the girl was.  It was in this stupid game of Seven Minutes in Heaven.  I was fourteen, and she had never kissed anyone either, so we just kind of went for it.  We both had the sense to keep our tongues out of it, but she was an amazing kisser,” Stiles knew his eyes had glazed over slightly with the memory.  As he came back to focus, Lydia’s eyes were shining.

“Really?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Well, yeah.  She was a good hugger too.  Short, though.  I wouldn’t say much shorter than you-” Stiles was cut off as Lydia’s lips pressed into his.  His eyes widened in shock, but he quickly shut them and kissed her back with everything he had.  His arms closed around her waist, and then he knew.  He slipped back to that night.  The girl he had kissed in the closet in his geeky adolescent innocence.  Her smell, her height, her kiss.  As their lips languidly stroked together, Lydia’s arms came around Stiles’ neck, just like they had that night.  Stiles was the one to pull back, though.  

“It was you, wasn’t it?” he rasped, his lips wet with spit and swollen from their kiss.  His mind was reeling.

“Yes,” Lydia confirmed in a small voice.  “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now.  But every time I tried you always said something to distract me.  And I thought you’d be mad.”

“Mad?  Are you insane?  I was in love with you back then!  I never thought I’d find the girl that night.  I kept waiting for someone to come and tell me it was them.  For the first time in six years I liked someone who I thought wasn’t Lydia Martin!  I liked that girl.  She was quiet and vulnerable and kind,” Stiles couldn’t stop the words he’d always wanted to say to her pouring out of his mouth.  “But now I know?  Lydia, you’re not perfect.  But your imperfections are what make you who you are.  And I like you more for this.”  Stiles tried to kiss her again, but Lydia was shaking her head.

“Stiles.  I-” she started.  “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?  What about that kiss?” Stiles retorted, confused and more than a little hurt.

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“A kiss always means something.  Why would you do it if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I care about you.  And the last person I cared about turned homicidal when I lied to him.  I don’t want this friendship to end that way,” Lydia whispered.

“It won’t.  Are you kidding me?  No!  If anything, we’ll just be stronger,” Stiles tried to convince her, running a hand soothingly between her shoulder blades.  Lydia pulled away and stood up.

“I can’t risk that happening to you.  We are such good friends.  Can’t we just be in each other’s lives like this?” Lydia had her arms wrapped around her body.  There was a smudge of lipgloss on her Cupid’s bow and she wiped it away as if she were embarrassed.

“Why are you fighting this?” Stiles was angry now.

“Because it would change everything.  What if we get together and then break up again?  Or what if we have a fight?  Look what happens to our best friends over something as simple as sex!  We can just avoid all of that.  Why can’t you see that this is a bad idea?”

“Because I know I’m meant to be with you.  Look at the history we have together.  Even when you pretended to ignore me I was there.  There is no way that us having our first kiss together isn’t fate.”

“There’s no such thing as fate,” Lydia denied, jutting out her bottom lip in a pout.

“We’re going to keep going in circles about this for the rest of our lives.”

“You wish, Stillinski.”

“No, I know.  I’ve always known.  When we were little I knew I cared about you.  But you were never willing to listen until now.  And then I pour my heart out to you and you tell me to leave?  Come on, Lydia.  We’ve spent months darting around each other.  There were so many times when all I wanted was to kiss you,” Stiles was angry, now and yelling.

“Then why didn’t you?” Lydia shrieked.  She had tears in her eyes.

“Because maybe I wanted more than just a kiss,” Stiles said, not daring to say the three words he most wanted to say.

“Well, I can’t give you that.  Not now,” Lydia whispered, turning away from him.  Stiles took several tentative steps towards her, fully intending to turn her around and convince her that it would be worth the risk.  His hand was inches from her shoulder.

“Just go, Stiles,” Lydia sounded broken.  “Please?”  Stiles’ fingers flexed, and then fell.  He turned around and picked up his back pack.  He opened the door to Lydia’s bedroom and walked down the stairs then exited the house.  As he unlocked the driver’s side door, Stiles reached up and scrubbed the unshed tears from his eyes.  It was the 11th of January.

 


	10. Chapter 10

X

 

Stupid Cupid

 

 

 _Winter isn’t nearly over_ , Stiles Stilinski thought as he made his way up Scott’s driveway, having parked his Jeep just down the street.  The pearly clouds were echoed in his pale grey sweater and the cool, crisp air of the afternoon perfectly matched his gloomy mood.  Despite the hours of veritable fun ahead Stiles wasn’t happy.  It had been nearly three weeks since he and Lydia had spoken, and Stiles had thought that time would heal his wounds, but it hadn’t.  In fact, all it had done was increase the exponentially large hole in his chest.  His ADHD hadn’t helped matters either, and Stiles had been running every day, leaving almost straight after he got home from Lacrosse practice to escape his father’s curious gazes and his own traitorous thoughts.  In fact, the only reason he was spending time with Scott today was because Scott had pleaded.  Allison had filled him in on what had happened, and Scott had proposed a guys day, saying that Lydia and Allison were having one.  Stiles raised his right fist and knocked on the solid front door of the McCall house, only waiting a second before turning the knob and stepping over the familiar threshold and hooking his jacket over one of the hooks in the hall. 

“Hi, Stiles.  How are you doing?” Melissa McCall stepped out from the kitchen to Stiles’ right, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.  She was smiling brightly, and it was then that Stiles noticed the smell of chocolate chip cookies (his favourite) that was permeating the house.  A small smile grew on his face.

“Good thanks, Melissa.  Where’s Scott?”

“Scott should be home from work in about ten minutes.  Deaton asked him to run an emergency errand and he couldn’t really say no.  Do you want something to eat?”  Melissa was still smiling at him, and then Stiles knew.

“Scott told, you didn’t he?” Stiles asked Melissa.  She moved across the room to hug him.  Stiles accepted her embrace and returned it, the comforting feeling of being held overtaking him.  Melissa had been his maternal figure after his own mother had passed away, and she knew Stiles almost as well as she knew her own son.

“I guessed.  When Scott didn’t leave this morning to go and see Allison I knew something had happened, and since you’re the only other person in his life he’d take a day off for...” she trailed off.

“You figured it out for yourself,” Stiles finished for her, pulling back.  Melissa touched her hand to his cheek, and smiled wanly at him.

“So how have you been?” she asked.

“Honestly?  Not great.  I’m working on it though.  Thanks, Melissa.  For everything.”

“You’re more than welcome Stiles.  You know that you’re always welcome here if you need some space, even if Scott isn’t home.  Claudia, well... your mum would have wanted that.”

“I know.  And thanks.  I-- I really appreciate it,” Stiles’ voice cracked as he thanked her again. Clearing his throat he then gestured towards the kitchen she had just vacated.  “Are any of those cookies actually ready to eat?  I’m starving.”

 

***

 

“...And then I told him to leave.  I just didn’t know what else to do,” Lydia confessed to Allison.  “I really like him, Alli, and that’s why I don’t know if I can put him through that.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you basically turned down an offer from a guy who is not only adorable and caring, but knows how smart and funny _you_ are and isn’t intimidated because you were scared?” Allison surmised, her eyes flicking over Lydia’s face.  

“Yes,” Lydia admitted.  They were sitting on Lydia’s bed, each holding a mug with a small, chocolate cake baked inside- Allison’s specialty.  Lydia’s hair was a mess, and she was in sweatpants instead of her usual silky pyjamas, but right now she didn’t give a damn.  These three weeks without Stiles had been torturous.  Any time she looked at him, he blatantly ignored her and looked in the other direction.  He had even gone as far as turning and walking in the other direction when they were alone in the hallways early one morning.  She was distraught and angry (mostly at herself, but a little at Stiles) and all Lydia wanted was to go back and change how that night had gone.  

“Can you explain to me again why you’re scared?  Because I’m not seeing the problem here, Lyds,” Allison asked her.  Lydia snapped to focus again.  Why was she scared?  Was that a trick question?  Lydia drew in a great breath and then let out what she had been feeling.

“Because in my last serious relationship, the guy turned into a homicidal lizard who was being controlled by a psychopath you went on a date with, and then my rebound guy turned out to be an alpha werewolf who could merge into a huge monster with his twin brother,” Lydia’s voice was getting shrill.  “Then, out of nowhere, everything-- or nearly everything, barring Scott of course-- is normal again.  And we all just went back to our lives like nothing had happened, and I finally found a friend who is not only my intellectual equal, but someone I have an insane connection with and then I had to go and ruin it by telling him the truth.  I thought that he wouldn’t want to like me anymore because I had lied to him and that everything like that would be over, but now he wants a relationship.  But I can’t give that to him because he deserves better than a damaged, neurotic girl who has insane control and trust issues.”  Allison’s mouth was hanging open in shock, and Lydia huffed out the rest of her breath and took a grumpy bite of her cake and ice-cream, casting her eyes downwards.  

“You think Stiles is too good for you?”  Allison sounded breathless.  

Lydia swallowed and looked up.  “Of course I do, Allison.  You seriously think that after spending nearly nine months getting closer to each other I didn’t notice anything new?”

“I didn’t say that Lydia.  Don’t make this an attack on me.  I’m just surprised is all.  You didn’t even know who he and Scott were when we met; now you’re in love with him,” Allison said, the crinkle between her eyes smoothing out and a small smile beginning to form on her lips, one of her dimples popping out.

“I am not in love with him, Allison.  I just don’t want to hurt him.  I’m not the girl he thinks I am, and the sooner he realises that, the sooner he realises he should move on,” Lydia said, ignoring the niggling thoughts in the back of her mind telling her that Allison was right.

“Okay, Lydia.  Look, I know you’re having trouble dealing with all of this, so we don’t have to talk about this anymore, but just so you know, you’re going to have to deal with it some time.  If you leave it too long, Stiles might never forgive you,” Allison advised, taking her friend’s hand and squeezing it tightly.  Lydia returned the pressure.

“I know, Allison.  I just... I don’t know what to say for him to forgive me.”

“Just tell him the truth.  You owe him that,” Allison replied.

 

***

 

Stiles had practically inhaled six cookies and was starting on his seventh when Scott walked through the front door.

“Mom!  I’m home,” Scott called, his heavy boots stomping as he rounded the corner into the kitchen.

“Kitchen, honey,” Melissa informed her son.

“Smells great in here.  Oh, hey Stiles.  Sorry I wasn’t around when you got here.  I had to--”

“Run an errand for Deaton.  I know, your mum told me.  It’s okay,” Stiles said, munching on the sweet, baked dough in his mouth.

“Cool.  Listen, Isaac’s out for the rest of the day.  He’s got a job at that movie rental store in town now, so I thought we could play some Call of Duty.  Kick some pre-pubescent ass from across the world,” Scott announced, joining his friend at the island in the middle of the kitchen and picking up a cookie.

“I was feeling more like watching a movie.  We haven’t done that in ages,” Stiles suggested.

“Actually that’s not a bad idea.  You grab the popcorn and I’ll get the soda,” Scott agreed, and the boys split away from the counter in the synchronised movements only best friends could master.

 

They were halfway through Hansel and Gretel when Scott paused the movie and turned to face Stiles.  

“What’s up man?  Bathroom break or something?” Stiles asked, confused.

“When are we going to talk about it, Stiles?  Because I got a text from Allison earlier today telling me that Lydia was still upset.  So what gives?” Scott questioned bluntly.

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles said, idly rattling the kernels left in the bottom of the popcorn bag.

“Well that really doesn’t matter, Stiles.  Something bad obviously happened if the two of you are refusing to talk to your best friends about it.  We can’t help you if we don’t know what the problem is.  What did you do?”

Stiles snorted.  He wanted to tell Scott.  If anyone could help him, it was going to be his best friend.

“I kissed her back.  I’m not sure that’s a very good reason for being upset, considering she kissed me first,” Stiles told Scott.

“Wait, What?  Dude, she actually kissed you?  For real this time?  None of that ‘on the cheek’ shit you were whining to me about a month ago?”

“For real.  There was tongue and everything this time, though,” Stiles answered.

“Wait, this time?  You were holding out on me!” Scott sounded incredulous.

“Not intentionally, man.  But-- honestly-- if I had known what I’m about to tell you, I’m not sure if I would have said something.”

“So, what gives?” Scott asked, interest obviously piqued.

“You remember that night at Greenburg’s house the summer before ninth grade?” Stiles asked Scott.

“Yeah.  The night you got your first-- oh my God.”  He said it as though there were a full stop between the words.  “It was Lydia Martin. You had your first kiss with Lydia Martin!  How did you not know?”

“She left the cupboard first and vanished into the crowd.  I never figured she was missing because she kissed me.  I figured she was off somewhere getting a drink or kissing some other guy.  But-- and this is important too-- it wasn’t just my first kiss, Scott,” Stiles informed him.

“Lydia too?” Scott breathed.  Stiles nodded.  “Well, consider my mind blown.  But how is that even possible?”

“No idea.  But it happened.  So the other night she started asking all these personal questions and then she asked me what the best kiss I ever had was, so I told her my first kiss.  Which, yeah, at the time it was.  But then she kissed me and I recognised her.  She has this really strange thing she does with her lips that feels so--”

“Stiles I really don’t want to hear it!” Scott covered his ears and gave his friend a look.

“Anyway, so she kissed me, and then I asked her if it had been her in the closet that day.  It was, obviously.  But then she freaked out even more than she usually does and I have no idea why.  She asked me to leave, so I did, but I don’t know why.  That’s pretty much it, man,” Stiles finished talking.

“Are you going to find out?” Scott asked him.  Stiles had to think about it.  He loved her.  No questions asked.  But he wasn’t sure if he could take the truth.

“Hopefully soon.”  Scott left it alone then, clapping Stiles on the shoulder and pressing play on the screen, but even Gemma Arterton walking around in a skin tight leather costume couldn’t distract him.

 

***

 

“It’s so painful to watch them pretend they don’t feel each other,” Allison whispered to Scott on Monday afternoon while she was changing her books.  Each had been with their respective best friends all lunch, and both of them had noticed the pained looks on Stiles and Lydia’s faces when they accidentally spotted each other.

“I know what you mean.  From what you told me, they should already be together,” Scott agreed with her.  Allison bit her lip, feeling slightly guilty about betraying Lydia’s trust.  In the long run, both she and Scott knew that when it came down to it, they needed to know the emotional state of their friends, but it wasn’t easy to tell her boyfriend someone else's secrets, especially when he had his foot permanently attached to his mouth.

“But that’s just it-- she thinks he’s too good for her.  I was totally shocked when she told me that, but the more I think about her feeling that way, the more I think that she actually might be in love with him,” Allison told Scott.

“I think they both are.  In love with each other,” Scott clarified, watching his best friend dart small glances at Lydia, who had her face buried in her locker organising her extremely large stack of textbooks and pretending not to care that she had eyes on her.

“Without a doubt,” Allison agreed, her dark umber eyes sliding up slightly to meet Scott’s sepia coloured ones.  As they locked eyes, Allison was glad that she and Scott didn’t suffer from the drama that plagued Stiles and Lydia.  Sure, they had their problems, and sometimes they had serious arguments, but there had never been a question of whether or not they were right for each other or that they loved each other.

“I love you,” she told Scott, and gave him a quick chaste kiss which he returned.

“I love you too, Allison,” Scott replied, and tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear.  Allison broke the gaze and turned to watch Lydia again.  

“We’re going to have to keep and eye on them, Scott,” she said, hooking her fingers through his before shutting her locker door.

“Agreed.  But we have to wait.  At least give them a chance to work it out for themselves,” Scott said.  Allison knew he was right.  But Friday was Valentines day, and if two people couldn’t work it out for the most romantic day of the year, then silver couldn’t really kill werewolves.

 

***

 

It was Friday, and Lydia still had no plans for the weekend.  Scott and Allison were spending a romantic weekend in his bedroom, and her usual partner in crime was still conspicuously absent.  Today was Valentines day, and Lydia had not been asked on a single date, or even offered a rose or chocolates.  To make matters even worse, pink and red decorations had gone up in the school over the last few weeks advertising to send a rose or a large candy lollipop to your friends or your current romance.  As it was, Lydia was grumpy.  But when she saw one of the bright posters in the hallway, she stomped over to it and ripped it straight off the wall, crumpled it into a ball and dropped it, grinding it into the floor with her heel before storming away down the hall.  They weren’t really needed anymore, and she needed to take her anger out on something.  As she reached her locker, she spotted Stiles at his, just over the hall.  He closed the door, and saw her coming, quickly scuttling away from her like a rat from a snake.  This only worsened Lydia’s black mood.  She had to explain her actions him, and there was no better time than now.

“Oh no you don’t Stilinski,” she muttered under her breath and quickened her pace.  Stiles looked over his shoulder, spotted her and ducked into the nearest door-- or so she thought.  As it swung closed, Lydia saw the sign on the front of the door.  The men’s bathroom.  If Stiles thought that that was going to stop her, he had another think coming.  Lydia tossed her tresses over her shoulders, then straightened her dress and pushed open the door to the mens room.  As she turned the corner, several startled faced turned toward her.

“Everyone who isn’t Stilinski, finish your business and get out now,” she commanded.  The boys rushed to obey her, pulling up their flies and hurriedly washing their hands before booking it out of the room.  When only she and Stiles were left, she met his eyes.

“What do you want Lydia.  Because last time I checked this was the men’s room,” Stiles almost spat, venom in his voice.  Lydia felt a small lump begin to grow in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me right now.  But I need to tell you what was going through my head the other day.  We can’t keep going around like this, Stiles.  So can we _please_ talk?” Lydia begged.  Stiles’ eyes seemed to soften, and he uncrossed his arms.

“You want to talk, talk,” he instructed.

“Okay, so I know I hurt you the other night.  I’m incredibly sorry for that, Stiles.  I thought that by pushing you away I would be keeping you safe, but I was really keeping myself safe.  The truth is, I’m not emotionally ready for a relationship right now.  I have trust issues, and while I trust you, I don’t trust myself.  I care about you too much to let you in further than friendship because if we did get together, I know I would break your heart.  You deserve better than what I can give you, Stiles.  And that was why I pushed you away.  Not because I don’t like you, but because I’m not ready to be myself with another person yet,” Lydia blurted.  Stiles’ mouth was hanging open.  “You’re supposed to say something now, Stiles.”

“I- uh.  Okay,” Stiles says, smiling.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, we can just be in each other’s lives like this.  It was what you asked me that night.  I’m not saying I’m entirely okay with it, but I can live with it.  Especially after what you just told me.  I forgive you,” Stiles was smiling wanly at her.  Lydia launched herself at him, sobbing.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder.  His wiry-- yet strong-- arms came up and wrapped around her waist, and he held her until she cried herself out.

“I thought I lost you,” she told him, sniffling.

“Well, you haven’t, okay?  I promise, Lydia.  I’m not going anywhere,” Stiles whispered into her hair.  They pulled away from each other, and Lydia grabbed her compact out of her purse, checking her now ruined makeup.

“Look, I have to get to class, but I’ll come over to yours tonight.  Seven?” Stiles asked her.

“Seven sounds great.  Don’t eat beforehand.  I’ll get something for dinner,” Lydia told him, smiling, before putting the compact away, recognising it was a larger job.   She turned to the large mirror on the wall, and pulling a small make-up case from her bag she set to work on her eyes as Stiles left the bathroom.

 

***

 

Stiles knocked on Lydia’s bedroom door that night with apprehension in his stomach.  Ms. Martin had let him in on her way out of the house, and Stiles had locked the door behind him as instructed, before making his way up the staircase and past the window seat to Lydia’s door.  He was nervous to the extreme, and most of his uncertainty was because he didn’t know what would happen once he spoke to the girl on the other side.  It had taken him a good minute to raise his hand, and another entirely to actually rap the door with his knuckles.  Ten seconds after, the door swung open, revealing Lydia dressed in the lilac coloured dress from earlier in the day, but now barefoot and smiling.

“Hey,” she greeted him, pulling the door a little wider to let him through before shutting it behind him.  Stiles stood awkwardly for a second, before ditching his backpack on the ground and taking his usual seat in her desk chair.  Lydia moved back over to the bed and opened the pizza box resting there, taking one look at the pepperoni and chuckling; it had been made into a hear shape.

“You’d think that at least pizza companies would have the good sense not to make people feel like they’re alone on Valentine’s,” Lydia joked.

“Yeah, especially since most of their customers are probably ordering it just to make sure they don’t have to go out and watch other people being happy,” Stiles continued.  Their eyes met, and Stiles knew that everything was going to be okay.

“Well, dig in before it gets cold.  And please help me rearrange this disgustingly happy portrait of love,” Lydia said, picking up a slice of pizza, and moving the pepperoni slices around so they were even, before biting into the doughy base.  Stiles happily picked up a slice and took a large bite.  Everything was back to normal.  Or, almost, anyway.

 


	11. Chapter 11

XI

 

Yeah, I Saw Sparks

 

 

February was long gone, and the mid-March weather was warming up slightly.  Lydia Martin was taking full advantage of this, and her bare legs and lack of jacket showed her enjoyment of the first weeks of Spring.  The four friends had ventured up to Scott and Allison’s meeting place overlooking Beacon Hills at eleven that morning to enjoy the sunshine, the quiet privacy of the woods and a picnic lunch.  It was now nearing one thirty, and the group were still lounging around.  Lydia was presently perched on a blanket on the ground with her legs tucked under her, nibbling on a chicken salad sandwich and chattering to her friends.  Allison, Scott and Stiles were seated around her, all engaged in different activities while enjoying the sun.  Scott was-- surprisingly-- re-reading one of the novels they were being assessed on for their final exams in a couple of months.  Allison was resting on her stomach, sipping from the chilled juice pouch in front of her and sketching in a small journal.  Stiles, as was his custom, was typing away furiously on his phone and trying not to twitch about while sitting in one place for so long.

“So the movie times for tonight are 5:45 or 7:30.  Do you guys still want to go and see The Maze Runner?” Stiles looked up from his phone and met Lydia’s eyes.

“Well I’m in,” Scott said, looking up from the pages of Life of Pi.  “That Kaya Scodelario chick is really, really-- sorry Allison.”  Scott broke off at the glare Allison gave him.

“Well, since Scott is so keen, I might as well go.  I’ve gotta admit, that Dylan kid is pretty cute these days.  Ever since he grew his hair out,” Allison snarked at Scott.

“Lydia?” Stiles asked her.  Lydia considered for a moment.  The last thing she wanted was to be coupled with Stiles on an awkward double date.  But, she reasoned, the four of them had been together all day and it hadn’t been different than usual.  She finished weighing the pros and cons before answering.

“Well, if we’re all going I might as well,” Lydia shrugged.  “But I think we should go to the 7:30 and have an early dinner first.”

“Sounds good to me,” Scott said, putting his bookmark in place and stretching, his back popping as the gas was released from between the vertebrae.

“Food always sounds good to you,” Allison teased, poking her boyfriend’s six pack abs.  Scott’s arms came thudding down, and he exhaled his air with an oof of surprise, then nudged Allison’s shoulder, making her tip sideways. 

“Hey!”

“You started it, Allison.”

“Now I’m finishing it,” Lydia said, giving her friends a look that silenced them, though it was without the malice she used to use.  “I’m feeling a bit hot, and I think I’m going to need a nap before tonight.  Let’s all take a couple of hours and chill out a bit.”  In all honesty, Lydia needed some time away from her friends to breathe.as much as she loved them all, it was times like these when Scott and Allison were easily flirting that she wished she hadn’t pushed Stiles away that night.  In the fortnight or so that had elapsed since Valentine’s day, she and Stiles had tentatively relaxed into their old routine, barring the flirting that had been prevalent before the incident in January.  She knew, though, that she had still not turned the corner on her emotions, and that she would need a little more time before committing to anyone-- sexually and emotionally-- again.

Allison broke the small silence with, “I could go for a nap, too.  And a shower.  Lydia, do you need a lift?”  Lydia was grateful.

“I’d like that,” she said truthfully, and started to pack away the remnants of the picnic Stiles had packed for them.  Scott bent the page in his book and started to pick up the cushions resting on their blankets, shoving them into the large cloth bag that Allison had brought them in while she and Lydia stood, slipped on their shoes and folded the soft blankets they had been sitting on.  Within five minutes all traces of their presence had been removed, and all their belongings were packed into their respective owners cars.  Scott and Allison shared a kiss, and then the group separated, agreeing to meet at Ferretti’s at 10 to six.

 

***

 

Lydia opened her eyes and blinked against the muted light spilling through the gaps in her curtains.  She reached out to her left to silence her alarm, and then continued to stare upwards at her ceiling.  She was still exhausted, and it was the kind that took a hell of a lot more than a nap to sleep away.  After their picnic that morning, and watching how happy Scott and Allison were, Lydia was feeling lonely-- the kind of lonely that couldn’t be fixed in a hot shower spray.  She needed to be held close; to spoon with someone and fall asleep in their arms.  After going through hell in Sophomore year-- breaking up with Jackson; not being included and trusted by her friends; being possessed and tricked by the evil that is Peter Hale-- it had been a long time since she felt safe.  In fact, the only time she ever really felt safe was when she was with Stiles, Allison or Scott.  Lydia sat up in bed and exhaled loudly in concentration, blocking the thoughts of Stiles from her mind.  There was no point in agonising over their relationship, and she had to start getting ready for tonight.  Lydia moved to her bathroom and pressed play on her sounds system to play some modern Jazz (her secret love for when she felt like she needed some time to herself), turned on the shower, getting in and ducked her head under the spray before massaging in some organic shampoo that smelled of flowers.  There was one thought that slipped through the cracks of her usually flawless mental barriers.  _God, I wish I was ready for him_. 

 

***

 

The waitress placed down Lydia’s meal in front of her, refilled their glasses and walked away from the table.  Lydia inhaled some of the steam wafting up from her plate and quietly sighed at the smell of the sage and butter sauce on her pumpkin gnocchi.  Around the table her friends were also receiving their dishes: Allison had a gorgeous looking vegetable lasagne, Scott was eyeing his fettuccine carbonara with hunger and Stiles was thanking his waitress as she placed a decadent looking pizza in front of him.  Ferretti’s wasn’t a particularly fancy place (as was illustrated by the families dining around the room) but the food was excellent and the service was quick.  Lydia and Allison had arrived early, and had taken a table inside.  The boys had shown up at precisely ten to six-- no doubt Stiles’ doing-- and they had proceeded to order not five minutes after then.  It was six twenty, and already their food was on the table.  The film started at seven, so they had half an hour to eat, and then ten minutes to walk the short distance to the theatre and grab their tickets.  Previews would give them a little extra time for a bathroom break or visiting a concession stand, and they would definitely make the showing in time.  Lydia placed her napkin onto her lap, gently picked up the spoon and fork and took a dainty bite of her meal.  The flavour struck her, as it had on the rare times she ate Ferretti's pasta.

“Oh my God.  I could seriously die happy right now,” Stiles practically moaned, swallowing his first mouthful and licking his lips.

“I would bathe in this carbonara sauce.  Actually, scratch that.  I wouldn’t, because then I would be worried that I would consume myself,” Scott said, tucking into his mean like a starving man.  Allison gave the group a smile and swallowed her mouthful and took a sip of water before contributing.

“This is the best lasagne I’ve had since we moved here.  There was this incredible place on the water in San Francisco, but this is so much better.  How’s yours, Lydia?”

“Completely worth the extra hour of cardio I’m going to have to do tomorrow,” Lydia replied, giving her friends a smile and taking another bite.

“Why do we not spend more time here?” Scott wondered.

“Because we’d all get fat.  And that would be a tragedy,” Lydia responded.

“I’m not sure that quite qualifies as a tragedy, Lydia,” Allison chuckled.

“I beg to differ, Allison.  If I got fat, my feet would probably spread, and I wouldn’t be able to wear any of my new shoes.  I’m pretty sure that’s tragic, considering how much I spent on them,” Lydia informed her.

“I can vouch for that.  She made me come.  If I ever see another shoe store, it will be too soon,” Stiles added through a mouth full of pizza.  Lydia rolled her eyes.

“You didn’t seem to mind so much when that sales girl was flirting with you,” she put in between mouthfuls.  Scott and Allison laughed as Stiles’ face went red.

“Who was this girl and why haven’t I heard about her before?” Scott asked as he elbowed his friend in the ribs.  Stiles sighed, put down his slice of pizza and told the story to a chorus of laughter from the whole group.  By the time the group finished their meals, their stomachs were sore from too much good food, and too much laughing.

 

***

 

The feeling of awkward was palpable in the air as Lydia tried desperately to tune out the awful sucking noises coming from her left.  Before the lights had gone down, the four friends had filed into the back row of the theatre with a tub of popcorn and several drinks at Stiles’ insistence (“you cannot go to the movies without snacks- it’s a crime against humanity!”) and had been happily chatting, but as soon as the trailers were over, Scott and Allison were attached at the lips and the plot of the film no longer mattered to them.  She had tried to get into the movie, but even Stiles‘ fascination in the plot hadn’t made Allison and Scott’s actions fall on deaf ears.  Now Lydia was twisting the hem of her skirt in frustration and-- though she hated to admit it-- envy.  She didn’t, however realise that her right elbow was bumping into Stiles‘ ribs until his breath was warm on her neck as he leaned towards her.

“What?” he asked her, obviously a little annoyed at being dragged away from the movie.

“I didn’t say anything,” Lydia told him, confused.

“No, but you were jabbing my side with your elbow, and I don’t really want to have bruised ribs tomorrow morning,” Stiles replied.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was hurting you,” Lydia said, letting go of her skirt.  Stiles tore his eyes from the screen for the first time, and took in the crease between her eyebrows.

“You miss it, don’t you?” he questioned, nodding his head toward where Scott and Allison were attempting to permanently attach themselves to one another.

“It’s not the tongue-down-each-other’s-throats kissing thing.  Just having someone who is there when you need to be held.  Everyone needs to feel someone, sometimes,” Lydia confessed.  The fire that they burned around each other flared into life in the look they shared, and Lydia felt her nipples pebble in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the cinema, which was quite warm.  She broke the gaze, though, and blinked a few times to dispel the feeling of tears that was coming on.  But then Stiles’ arm was warm around her shoulders.  Lydia tucked herself  into his side, her head resting on his chest as they watched the film.  Stiles’ compulsive twitching ceased as soon as she relaxed into him, and his breathing which routinely kept a stuttering tempo evened out to lengthly, rhythmic inhales and exhales.  They both settled in to the comfortable warmth of each other, and Lydia was able to tune in for whatever was left of the film.  It was interesting, and Allison had been right-- that Dylan kid was definitely sexy with long hair, although she hadn’t minded it short either.

 

***

 

The movie was over.  Lydia was carrying the empty popcorn bin with their drink cartons in it to dispose of as they left the theatre.  She and Stiles had had to separate Scott and Allison in order to exit the row of seats, and they were now descending the staircase to leave the cinema.

“So, is anyone else feeling like a frozen yoghurt?  It’s finally warm enough again,” Lydia asked her friends as she dropped the waste into the trash can.  Scott and Allison shared a look for a moment, before smiling conspiratorially at each other.

“I think I’m going to call it a night.  What about you, Scott?” Allison asked.

“Yeah, I’m pretty beat.  Can you give me a ride home?” Scott said, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Of course.  Lydia, you’re right to go home with Stiles aren’t you?”  It wasn’t really a question, though.  Allison and Scott were going to leave regardless.  Lydia looked at Stiles questioningly.

“It’s fine with me,” Stiles told her.

“Sure, then.  Go.  Get some rest,” Lydia replied to Allison’s question.

“Great.  Goodnight, you two.  I’ll talk to you later, Lyds,” Allison said, giving Lydia a one-armed hug and flashing Stiles a smile, before she and Scott high-tailed it out of the reception area.

“She really will be giving him a ride home tonight,” Lydia said, keeping her face void of emotions.  Stiles snorted, and shook his head at her.

“I’d wager that they’re not even going home.  It’s not the first time they’ve ever had to use a car,” Stiles told her, smirking.

“I know that.  Allison is generous with the details,” Lydia said, winking at Stiles before the two of them broke into laughter.  “So, are you up for FroYo.  I’m dying for one.”

“Is the Pope sexually frustrated?”

“Urgh, Stiles.  That is so gross.  Not to mention politically incorrect.”

“Well, you know it’s probably true.  Besides, I panicked.  I think I might be running out of material,” Stiles joked.

“I doubt it.  I’m sure you’re just scraping the bottom of this particular barrel.  But, since your observation is most likely true, I’m assuming you want the yoghurt,” Lydia said, exiting through the sliding doors and starting down the footpath with Stiles on her heels.  They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, revelling in the warmth of the air.  Lydia was wearing a jacket, but it was considerably thinner than the one she had been wearing two weeks ago, and she had not needed stockings to come out tonight.

“So,” Stiles starts.  “Did you have fun today?”

“Until I heard the Scallison tongue vacuum tonight.  I’m not sure the realise that they’re probably going to have to separate for College.  They’re getting worse.  I thought romance was supposed to be dead,” Lydia confessed, being honest.  

“It is, mostly.  But sometimes it likes to rear its ugly head and remind all of us lonely souls that we are still single,” Stiles commented.

“Do you know something I don’t?” Allison hadn’t accepted any of her offers to Lydia’s knowledge, though there had been a few.  Stiles glanced at her, and sucked in a breath.

“Scott’s been offered a place for Veterinary Science in San Francisco,” Stiles told her.  “He told her last night, actually.  I don’t think anything official has been decided yet, but I know how much Allison wants to go to Berkley and it’s not far from the city.  Looks like romance smiles on some.”  Lydia snorted.  It was so like Scott and Allison for everything to work out perfectly.  She was pleased for them, though.  Even after the show they had put on tonight, if their friends were happy and in love then she was glad that something was working out.

“Like it isn’t going to happen,” Lydia replied.

“Well, at least they’ll be together.  Congrats again on Stanford, by the way.”  Lydia had gotten the news shortly after she and Stiles had made up.

“You too.  It’s funny, actually, that we’re going to the same place,” Lydia mused.

“Yeah, but you’re studying in the molecular biology and infectious diseases program.  I’m going for European history and mythological studies.  There’s a difference there, Martin,” Stiles teased.

“It’s still Stanford, Stilinski,” Lydia responded decisively, shoving his shoulder playfully.  Stiles conceded with a small smile.  They returned to companionable silence, then, and strolled along at a relaxed, breezy pace, occasionally looking in shop windows.  They were walking past a formal shop when Lydia was reminded of the occasion that was drawing ever closer that she hadn’t remembered to account for.  Prom.  Last year she had ditched her date halfway through the night, and had ended up with her face in her toilet bowl the next morning experiencing vodka in reverse.  This year was the final chance she had to enjoy herself.

“Have you thought much about Prom, Stiles?” she asked her companion.

“Not really.  I didn’t go last year, so I wasn’t really sure if I was going to go this year,” he returned.  “I’m not closed to the idea, though.  Maybe we can get together a bunch of single people and all go together.  Like a big group thing.”  Lydia knew her face was enough to tell him that she hated the idea.  Lydia liked dates-- the corsage, the limo, the tux that she got to peel back at the end of the night.  Though, with Stiles, that last one wasn’t on the table.  But if neither of them had a date, she wasn’t going to wait to make sure that she had someone to go with that was good company, even if there was no romance.

“Look, I know you don’t owe me this after everything I put you through before Valentine’s.  And I’m still sorry for that.  But it’s our last Prom, and I’d actually like to enjoy myself for once.  So, Stiles Stilinski?  Will you go to Prom with me?” Lydia waited, her eyes on Stiles’ face.  She wasn’t disappointed.  He smiled, one of the real, face-changing smiles that he only reserved for special occasions.  In typical Stiles fashion, he cracked a joke before giving a serious reply.

“Shouldn’t you be down on one knee with a sparkly finger adornment?  I never thought that you’d be the one asking me, Lyds.  But, yes.  I’d love to take you to the prom.  Any special requests?” _He knows me too well_.

“A gardenia corsage.  I’ll let you know the ribbon colour later on.  Actually, just go with silver.  It’s definitely the most likely, but if something changes I’ll let you know.  And don’t forget to order yourself a boutonnière to match,” Lydia instructed.

“Your wish is my command,” Stiles joked, and then offered this right arm out to her.  Lydia rolled her eyes and took it, wrapping her left arm through his and settling her right hand on top of her left where it rested on Stiles’ bicep.  They continued down the street like that, eventually finding their way into the FroYo.  They both doled out large portions into their cups (Lydia was a cheesecake fan, whereas Stiles went for strawberry), smothered the yoghurt in toppings and paid, before continuing their walk through the centre of town.  

 

***

 

It was nearly midnight when Stiles dropped Lydia off at her door, having walked her up to her driveway because of the late hour.  The two were arguing over their study schedule for their upcoming exams, both making sure they eked out time for their own interests. 

“All I’m saying is, the mall is less busy on Thursday afternoons than Tuesdays,” Lydia argued her part for a Thursday break.

“Yes, but it’s not like the Tuesday crowds are going to break any records for the busiest day of the week,” Stiles disagreed.

“Okay, well how about this: Scott is busy on Tuesday afternoons,” Lydia countered, smiling smugly.  She knew she had won, because Stiles’ chief argument for time off was to be able to see Scott.  Stiles gave her an exasperated look, and rolled his eyes.

“Fine.  Mondays and Thursdays off it is.  I really should know by now that there’s no point in arguing with you.”

“You should.  But I like that you at least try.  It wouldn’t be any fun if I didn’t get to prove you wrong,” Lydia teased.  Stiles shook his head, and Lydia giggled and gave him a quick hug, which he returned.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” she told him, unlocking the front door and stepping inside.

“G’night, Lydia.  Sweet dreams,” Stiles replied, taking a few steps backward.  Lydia smiled and raised her hand in a wave and closed the door, leaning against it like she had after so many dates with other boys.  _It wasn’t a date_ , she reminded herself.  _So why did it feel like one_?

 


	12. Chapter 12

XII

 

This Is the End

 

Scratching the last few lines of the equation onto the page, Stiles’ smile grew on his face.  He had already double-checked his answers and they were all right, including the one he was finishing off now.  The finals were over, and there was nothing he could do to stop the happiness bubbling up inside of him like a geyser, ready to blow at any second.  Studying with Lydia had been an invaluable resource over the past year, and Stiles was confident that he would be walking into Stanford in September completely prepared and with an excellent study partner.  The last fortnight had been total chaos, the scramble to be prepared for the mountainous pile of assessment overwhelming his whole life.  The validation that finishing the thing and knowing that he had done well was an equitable exchange, though, Stiles decided.  He put down his pen, double checked to see if there were any pages he had missed and then closed the examination paper.  He walked out of the hall with the greatest sense of satisfaction that an exam had ever given him.  Lydia-- in typical fashion-- was waiting for him outside the examination room, her legs crossed primly.  She had completed her exam at least 20 minutes before he had, but Stiles had known that she would wait for him.

“So?” she asked him, standing and placing the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

“Got everything right.  And finished 20 minutes before the end of the exam.  That’s got to be a record in the Stilinski household,” Stiles answered her, giving a huge smile which Lydia returned.

“Excellent,” she replied.  “Now, I think that a celebration is in order.  What are Scott and Allison doing tonight?”

“I hate to break this to you, but they don’t finish their exams until tomorrow.  Regular Chemistry was pushed back to accommodate AP Chem, so they’re probably studying.  Separately of course, because God knows that they can’t concentrate on anything for very long when they’re together,” Stiles informed Lydia, accompanying his observation with a wry smile.  As they passed through the front doors, Lydia gave an uncharacteristic grimace.

“Well, that sucks ass,” Lydia complained.  “We’ll have to hold off on the party until tomorrow.

“Or we could have a mini celebration ourselves?  Get some pizza, a little ice-cream.  Have a night in before the night out, so to speak,” Stiles suggested.  He knew she would say yes.  If there was anything that he had learned about Lydia in the time they had been close friends, it was that she had a major weakness for movie nights and greasy food, no matter how much she denied it.

“Will there be Twizzlers?” _And red liquorice.  Forgot about that one_ , Stiles thought.

“Of course, and popcorn too.”

“You have a deal, Stilinski.  Yours at seven?” Lydia confirmed.  They had reached their respective vehicles, which were parked next to each other as had become their habit.

“Seven sounds good.  If I order it this afternoon to be ready at 6:45, can you pick the pizza up on your way over?” Stiles asked.

“Definitely.  I’ll see you then,” she said, before unlocking her car and throwing her bag into the passenger seat.

“Later,” Stiles told her, and waved as she reversed and drove off, before heading out of the parking lot himself and starting toward the grocery store for the complete, Stiles-and-Lydia patented confection collection.  

 

***

 

“Grape soda, Dr. Pepper, microwave popcorn with extra butter, Twizzlers, Hershey’s Kisses and Ranch Pringles,” Lydia laughed when she arrived, pizza box in hand.  “Boy, you really went all out.  Are you trying to compensate for something, Stiles?”  Last year Stiles would have gone red.  But he had lived through enough embarrassment on Lydia’s behalf that he knew exactly how to respond.  He hadn’t taken the opportunity before, but he figured that now was the best time.

“Not at all.  In fact, if you really wanted to know just how unnecessary all this food is, we could just go up to my bedroom I right now and I could show you.”  Lydia looked up from the candy at his statement, her green eyes wide and her pupils blown out.  Admittedly it had been a pretty sexual statement, but he had never seen her have this reaction before.  Stiles had always been attracted to Lydia, but this was the first, unconscious physical signal that she was actually attracted to him also.  Stiles felt a spark of hope in his chest.  If she found him attractive, there was potential.  He stored the image away for later approval and discussion with Scott.  Lydia blinked, and Stiles knew that his small victory over her was about to be demolished.

“No thanks.  I think I’ll stick with the sweets.  Besides, at least a Twizzler never cums early,” Lydia replied, recovering from her shock.  Stiles just smiled and gestured to the stairs.  Lydia gave him a mock glare, placed a couple of packets of the sweets onto the pizza box and walked upstairs ahead of him.  Stiles popped the popcorn, filled a couple of tumblers with ice and soda and then followed her.  When he entered his room, he found that Lydia had grabbed his laptop and was logged into his Netflix.  They had known each other’s passwords for months now; Stiles’ was Vader (a reference to his obsession with Star Wars), Lydia’s was Prada (a reference to both her love of designer couture, and her love of her dog).  Stiles put down the drinks and snacks he was carrying, and then set up his pillows so that he and Lydia could sit against them while they ate and watched the movies.  Lydia had left the pizza box on the end of his bed, so Stiles pulled it into his lap and started in on a slice.

“So, apart from the terrifyingly large amount of science fiction, there’s _The Avengers_ or _Heathers_ ,” Lydia said, looking up from the computer.  “I haven’t seen either of them, so you pick.”

“You’ve never seen The Avengers?  Lydia, that is a crime against humanity.  But I’m in the mood for some dark, gory comedy.  Let’s watch _Heathers_ ,” Stiles decided.  Lydia pressed play, and joined Stiles on the bed, propping the computer on her lap, and reaching over to grab a slice of pizza.  Que Sera Sera started playing, and the two settled into the pillows at their backs.  Stiles put his arm around Lydia’s shoulders and she settled into the nook of his neck, creating the perfect viewing position for both of them.  

 

***

 

Stiles was wrapped around something warm and soft.  He was comfortable apart from the tickling sensation that was assaulting his nose and the surrounding area.  On every breath in, he refrained from sneezing.  When the sensation became too much, Stiles lifted a hand to push away the blanket that was disrupting his breathing-- only it wasn’t a blanket.  Stiles’ hand met soft, silky strands of what he thought was hair, and when he opened his eyes and blinked in the muted, red-gold morning light, he realised that the blanket he thought he was wrapped in wasn’t in fact a blanket, but girl.  A tiny, red-haired, green-eyed girl who he was currently wrapped around so tight that if she was awake there was no way that she hadn’t felt his morning hard-on pressed into her back.

“So you’re finally awake,” Lydia said, breaking Stiles’ silent panic and confirming his fears.  Stiles ricochetted backwards off of the mattress, tripped over the pizza box on the floor and stood with his back to Lydia, adjusting his jeans and willing away the erection that was causing so much drama.  

“I--- uh,” Stiles babbled, embarrassedly.  

“Calm down, Stilinski.  You forget that I’ve had one of those inside me.  Besides, it’s a normal physiological reaction which occurs during REM sleep.  Stop freaking out.”  His hard-on now gone, Stiles turned around to find Lydia sitting up in bed, her hair slightly mussed, but otherwise looking entirely stunning.  Stiles blushed when their eyes met, but Lydia simply smiled, yawned adorably and kicked off the blanket that had pooled around her hips.  She stood, peeling some foil off of her arm, then stretched and than cocked her head.

“So.  Got any coffee?”

 

***

 

After both Lydia and Stiles had showered and dressed, the pair headed downstairs.  Lydia had borrowed a white dress shirt from him, which she had modified slightly to make it look less like she was doing a walk of shame-- the tails were tied tightly around her waist and the sleeves up had been cuffed several times so they sat just below her elbows.  Neither was wearing shoes, but Lydia’s were held in her hand as she had informed Stiles she was going to leave straight after breakfast.  Their footsteps were muffled on the carpeted stairs, but as soon as they reached the wooden flooring on the bottom level, it was obvious that there were two sets of footsteps making their way into the kitchen.  It was no surprise to Stiles that the Sheriff was already awake, but from the look on his face, he had not expected to see a girl in his house that early in the morning (especially one wearing his son’s shirt.)  Stiles’ face was red, but Lydia remained unfazed.

“Morning, Sheriff.  Is there any coffee?” she asked, moving over to the counter when he pointed, and fishing two mugs out of the cupboard she knew they were kept in.  She poured Stiles a cup, and pushed it into his hands before taking a sip from her own, and starting to pull out breakfast things from the refrigerator.  

“How are you this morning, Miss Martin?” Sheriff Stilinski asked her, composing himself.  Stiles winced, knowing that this was definitely the calm before the storm.

“Not bad.  Thanks for having me last night.  I didn’t mean to stay over, but Stiles and I fell asleep watching movies.  Who knew that _Insidious_ could be so soothing?” Lydia replied, shooting Stiles a smile as she started to crack eggs into a large metal bowl.

 

***

 

As soon as the door closed behind Lydia, Stiles took a deep breath and wandered back into the kitchen, knowing that his father would definitely have something to say about his and Lydia’s impromptu sleepover.  The Sheriff was sitting at the table with his third cup of coffee and reading the paper, evidently waiting for Stiles to return.  When Stiles plonked himself down opposite his father, the discussion began.

“Stiles, you have some serious explaining to do.  I know we’ve never discussed it, but I’m pretty sure that no sleepovers with members of the opposite sex is an unwritten rule in any household with teenagers,” Sheriff Stilinski was pissed.  There was no doubt about it.

“I know, Dad.  But I promise we didn’t plan it.  It was just like Lydia said.  She came over last night to watch a couple of movies and to possibly go into a sugar coma which we planned to come out of just in time for her to make it home.  But it got really late, and we were watching Insidious and I guess we both just kind of drifted off,” Stiles was talking fast.  “Look, Lydia’s Mom knew where she was.  If she had been worried, she has our home number.  I’m sorry, Dad, but I didn’t mean to do it.”  The Sheriff had a pensive look on his face.  Stiles was annoying, and troublesome, but he hadn’t lied to his father about anything since he came clean about Scott and the mess last year.  

“Alright.  I trust you, Stiles.  Just... make sure it doesn’t happen again, okay?  At least not without permission.  I need to know if there’s going to be a woman in the house, even if you two aren’t sleeping together.”

“Dad, come on.  No sex talks, please.  One was enough to scar me for the rest of my existence,” Stiles cringed.

“Well, it’s either the sex talk or you’re grounded for a week.  You need to be punished somehow.  Regardless of how it happened, you still broke a pretty basic rule.  So it’s your pick,” Sheriff Stilinski said, crossing his arms and waiting.  

 

***

 

Stiles was in embarrassed agony for the rest of the day, but at least he could still go out with his friends.  The party was fun and the tiny amount of alcohol he ingested may have helped soothed him slightly.  But even bourbon whiskey wasn’t burning the memory of that morning out of his mind.  Stiles knew that waking up to Lydia was probably the best thing that could have happened to him, and he was determined to make sure that he got to as frequently as possible.


	13. Chapter 13

XIII

 

(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life

 

 

Lydia had a headache.  It wasn’t unusual for her, considering how much time she spent pouring over long, complicated journal articles, but that was fun and interesting.  What she was doing now was hard work.  The thing about Lydia Martin was that shopping was not fun for her-- it was a competitive and extremely difficult sport.  Which, right now, she was losing.  Prom was next week, and she still hadn’t been able to find something that she liked enough to deem Lydia Martin appropriate.  She and Allison had been trawling the massive Beacon Hills shopping complex for three hours now, and Lydia was sick of trying on dresses.  Allison (lucky, lucky Allison) had found her dress a few stores back.  It was a black, vintage looking corseted number, and it looked perfect on her.  She didn’t even have to buy any new accessories, because all that she needed was a pair of black, strappy sandals and no girl lives without a pair.  She even had a gorgeous cameo choker that her mother had left her when she died.  Lydia, on the other hand, was suffering from the one thing the hated more than any other: the curse of the ‘nothing-looks-right’ disease.  

“I hate shopping,” Lydia muttered under her breath to Allison, who gave her a sympathetic smile and took her arm.

“I know, Lyds.  But, look, lets grab a juice or something and then we can hit another store.  We’ve only been to three, and the mall has at least eight,” Allison replied.  _That’s the good thing about Allison_ , Lydia mused.  _She always knows just when I need a break from work_.  The two girls headed down to the food court and walked up to a smoothie bar.

“Two Mango Magic’s please,” Allison said, handing over a crisp ten dollar note to the cashier.

“Thanks Alli.  Dinner after all of this can be on me,” Lydia told her, a smile on her face.  

“Sounds fantastic.  So, Lyds.  I know I’ve asked you about this before, but you haven’t given me a straight answer yet-- you owe me at least that after everything I’ve told you about Scott.  Why did you ask Stiles to Prom?  And don’t say just because you felt bad, because I know that wasn’t it,” Allison asked.

“I wasn’t going to say that!” Lydia protested, giving Allison a small frown.

“Come on, Lydia!” Allison scolded.

“Okay.  Look, it’s like this: lately I’ve been having these... things, for Stilinski,” Lydia admitted.  A slight blush bloomed on her cheeks, and Allison’s knowing smirk grew.

“You mean feelings.  I know you do,” she giggled, gleefully.  

“Yes.  Fine.  Feelings.  I don’t know what they mean.  I’m so conflicted about everything since Jackson, and I’m not sure I’m ready for another romantic thing to happen yet.  But I really, really enjoy Stiles.  And I never thought I’d say that.  But I do.  He honestly makes me laugh, and after everything you know how important that is.  So, yeah.  Stilinski,” Lydia finished.  Allison was cackling wickedly at this point.

“Lydia and Stiles... Stydia!  You guys are Stydia Martinski!  Oh this is great!  Wait until I tell Scott!” she chortled.

“No!” Lydia exclaimed, grabbing her best friend’s arm.  “You can’t say anything.  Scott is a massive blabbermouth and I don’t want Stiles to know anything until I figure out how I feel, okay?”

Allison stopped laughing at the look on Lydia’s face.  “Okay, Lyds.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, you daft cow!  Look, those are our drinks.  Lets grab them and go and sit before we keep looking,” Allison chuckled.

 

It was an hour later when Lydia finally found the dress she wanted, but the wait had been worth it.

“Stiles is totally going to pass out when he sees you in that.”

“I know.  That’s why it’s so perfect.  Now, I need to see about a matching tie, because if there’s one thing I know about that boy, it’s that he’s going to panic about colour schemes.  Sometimes I seriously question his sexuality.”

 

***

 

Lydia knocked quickly on the Stilinski front door.  She had just dropped Allison home from a beautiful dinner in their favourite Japanese restaurant, and she had decided that since it wasn’t too late that she would drop Stiles’ tie for Prom around that evening.  She head Stiles’ muffled voice calling to his Dad that he’s get the door, and then the lock clicked and yellow light spilled over her as Stiles pulled the door wide open.  His eye lit up when he saw who it was, and the smile that graced his face was angelic.

“Lydia?” he asked, obviously surprised.  “What are you doing here?”

“Look, I know it’s getting a bit late, but I wanted to drop this off.  I bought my dress today, and I didn’t want you to freak out over getting a tie to match, so I took care of it,” Lydia said, handing over the small, black box where the bow-tie she had bought resided.  Stiles looked down at the box, and gave another smile.

“You knew I’d want a bow-tie.  Of course you did,” he said, smiling down at her.

“It’s a funny thing, Stiles.  When you spend time with someone, you actually find out stuff about them.  Who would have thought?” Lydia replied cheekily, without the snark that would have been given for anyone else.

“Strange, that,” Stiles joked back.  “Look, do you want to come in for a drink.  It’ll only be a coffee, but we can finalise everything for Prom on Friday.”

Lydia didn’t even have to think about it.  “I’d like that.”

 

***

 

The only thing left inside the blue, metal locker was a scrunched up piece of paper.  Lydia was staring at it blankly, and taking a minute to remember the magnitude of what she was doing by throwing it away.  She shook her head at that thought.  _You’re being stupid, Lydia,_ she told herself.  _You knew that this would end_.  And she had; she just hadn’t expected for it to sneak up on her that quickly.  Classes had been pretty slack that week, and Lydia had almost forgotten to clean out her locker, but since she wasn’t going to be in tomorrow (due to her need to spend the day getting ready for her final Prom), she was taking a break from the lack of studying going on in the Chemistry lab, and had just cleaned a year’s worth of loose paper and old staples out of her locker.  Lydia had a tradition-- a very odd one-- that she had done every year without fail since they’d been given lockers in middle school.  She would always clean everything out of her locker except one piece of paper.  Just a random piece, nothing special.  But that was the piece of paper she’d keep to remind her of that year at school.  It had given her many memories, and every year something different was found and catalogued, so that Lydia didn’t forget her time in school.  In sophomore year, it had been an old note from Jackson.  In eighth grade, it had been a piece of Math homework that had betrayed her true genius to the teacher in a very Cady Herron manner (“your work is right, but the answers are wrong”).  Lydia’s right hand quivered as she reached forward to take hold of the paper.  She picked it up, and smoothed it out, curious as to what the last piece of her year was going to entail.  In a familiar, messy script, it read:

 

_Lydia,_

 

_I know that technically these are a day late, but I wanted you to have something from someone who really knows you.  I’m sure you’ve been given loads of cards and candy, but these are your favourites.  Enjoy!_

 

_Love,_

_Stiles_ _  
_

_x_

 

Lydia felt a soft smile form on her face.  This note had been taped to a box of Belgian Seashell chocolates left in her locker on February the 15th-- and Stiles had been right.  They were her favourite.  It was then that Lydia realised that she knew exactly how she felt about Stiles.  Now all she had to do was find the perfect moment to act on it.

 

***

 

The lilac coloured fabric that Lydia had chosen look stunning against the milky pale of her skin.  Her red-gold locks were pulled into an elegant, braided up-do to showcase the expanse of skin the cut-out in the back of her dress revealed.  Her lips were a bright red that contrasted beautifully with her green eyes.  _Yes, ladies and gents.  Lydia Martin looks amazing, as per usual_.  Lydia shook her head at the sarcastic commentary that had started to overtake her thoughts since she’d begun to spend time with Stiles.  She had hated it at first, but now she simply smiled at herself.  There wasn’t anything she could do to stop it, and she didn’t really want to, anyway.  Lydia finished reapplying her lipstick, and picked up the skirts of her dress as she slipped her feet into her heels, making sure she didn’t crinkle or-- heaven forbid-- rip it.  She quickly did the clasp on each one, and then stood tall in front of her mirror and smiled brightly.  She was ready for tonight.  As she was packing her clutch with the essentials (phone, compact, lipstick, breath mints and house keys) the doorbell rang.  Lydia’s mother had already been briefed on the situation, and after many years of the same situation, Lydia knew that her mother would let Stiles in and wait with him until she was ready.  It was time for her final, high-school staircase moment.  Lydia quickly checked her appearance again.  She glanced at the pink and black bag on her bed, giggled quietly at what she had planned for later and then grabbed her bag and headed to the staircase, making sure that her footsteps were loud enough so that she would be the centre of attention.  She was Lydia Martin after all.  Sucking in a deep breath, Lydia slowly began the descent.  As the foyer of her house came into view, Lydia heard Stiles’ intake of breath.  She suppressed one of her own when she saw him.  He was wearing a tux and the bow-tie she had bought for him, and he looked beyond handsome.  His hair was stuck up in its usual quiff-like do, and his warm, brown eyes sparkled in the low-lighting.  Lydia reached the bottom, and make her way across to him.

“Wow, Stilinski.  You clean up good,” she said, breaking the silence that had overcome the room.

“I... uh... thanks.  You look... I don’t even have an adjective.  Like, just beyond, Lydia.  So beyond,” Stiles told her, a dumbstruck look on his face.

“I think the word you’re searching for is very,” Lydia said, referencing their movie choice of a week ago.  Stiles laughed.

“I think you’re right.  So, you requested this,” he said, holding out a box with a beautiful gardenia corsage in it.

“That’s lovely, Stiles.  Here, put it on her while I get some photos,” Mrs. Martin said, interrupting the moment that was making Lydia’s stomach swirl with butterflies.  Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles, but allowed her mother to snap several photographs before she and Stiles left the house.  There was a limo parked in her driveway, and Lydia gave Stiles a grin when she saw it.

“You are definitely the best date ever,” she told him, and took his arm before they both slipped into the car and headed to pick up Scott and Allison.

 

***

 

Despite the cheesy 80’s ballads and the punch that had definitely been spiked, Lydia was having an amazing time.  She and Stiles were revolving slowly to the last song of the night.  She had, of course, been crowned Prom Queen, and the silver tiara had fit perfectly into her up-do (because she was always prepared for any possible scenario.)  

 

 _Someday you will find me_  
Caught beneath the landslide  
In a Champagne Supernova in the sky

“Thanks for being my date tonight,” Lydia whispered.

“Lydia, I’d walk over hot coals to be your date.  Thanks for asking,” Stiles murmured back.

“That’s why I asked.  If anyone deserves to be the Prom Queen’s date, it’s you, Stiles.  You’re the best, kindest, most loyal, stunning person in this room,” Lydia said, pulling back and staring directly into Stiles’ eyes.

  
 _The world's still spinning round_  
We don't know why?  
Why? Why? Why? Why?

 

“Lyds,” Stiles whispered.

“Yes?” she croaked back, sinking slowly into him, her arms clasping even tighter around his neck.  The air around them began to crackle with static electricity.

 

_How many special people change?_

_How many lives are living strange?_

 

The air around them began to crackle with static electricity.

 

_Where were you while we were getting high?_

_We were getting high_

 

Stiles blinked slowly, leaning down slightly as Lydia pressed up onto her tiptoes.

 

_We were getting high_

_We were getting high_

 

And then the song ended.  Both teenagers pulled back from each other, and smiled slightly.  Everyone clapped for the DJ, and then the night was over.  The four friends made their way back to the limo, and were dropped off at their respective houses.  As Lydia unlocked her front door, she knew that Stiles was probably feeling pretty dejected, and she felt a small ache in her heart.  But she had promises to keep, and there was an outfit waiting for her upstairs.

 

***

 

Stiles-- dressed in a ratty T-shirt and jeans that had seen better days-- came to the door at the sound of her insistent knocks.  He let her in, and followed upstairs to his bedroom, and sat on his bed in a comfortable silence while she paced, trying to put together exactly what she needed to say together.

“So, two months ago we decided to be just friends,” Lydia began, exhaling and staring at Stiles with a strong, steady gaze.

“Yeah.  We did,” he agreed, giving her a half smile.

“I know.  And I know how much it hurt you then.  And I’m so sorry.  But I wasn’t ready then.  I wasn’t ready to believe that someone as good as you could love someone like me,” Lydia continued.

“There’s nothing wrong with you--,” Stiles began to interrupt her, but Lydia silenced him with a look.

“Yes, there is.  I was as blind as a bat.  I didn’t even have sonar to help me tell up from down.  But I found that note you sent me the day after we made up in my locker on Wednesday, and I realized.  I’ve been so, so stupid, Stiles.  Because I think that I might actually have feelings for you.  Scratch that, I know I do.  I’m falling for you, Stiles Stilinski.    So, if I haven’t royally screwed things up too much, would you be willing to give me another chance?” Stiles’ face had changed as Lydia delivered her soliloquy, from indignant, to shocked to absolutely and utterly bewildered.  

“Stiles?” Lydia asked, hoping to God that he would say yes.  His eyes snapped to hers.

“As if that’s even a question,” Stiles said.  They surged toward each other like oceans, colliding with all the violence of a storm and all the passion and unresolved sexual tension that had accumulated over years of darting around each other.  As their lips met and she pushed him against the wall, Lydia finally felt like she was standing on steady ground.  Her hands trailed over his arms and down his chest, feeling the staccato of Stiles’ heart.  It was beating in time with her own.


	14. Chapter 14

 

XIV

 

Touch

 

The wall was against his back; the thin shirt he was wearing the only protection against the chilly temperature.  Lydia’s fingers had reached Stiles’ belt buckle and were slowly and steadily teasing him as she deftly released the pressure holding the fabric to his hips.  

“Oh.  My.  God,” Stiles moaned, leaning his head back against the wall and shuddering in pleasure, blood slowly running downwards.  After years of holding himself back around her he was finally ready to let go.  Just then a face flashed through his mind.  Blonde hair and a knowing smile.  Heather.  Stiles’ arms lowered from Lydia’s waist and took hold of the fingers that were resting just inside the hem of his shirt.

“What’s the matter?  Don’t you want me?” Lydia asked, looking up through her thick lashes.

“Of course.  I do.  So, so much.  But, Lydia... the last time... well, the only time I’ve ever been in a situation like this, the girl died.  She was taken and she died and I lost her.  I don’t want to lose you too,” Stiles told her.  Even thinking of what had happened to his childhood friend was painful.  His eyes gleamed with tears at the memory.  He reached up and brushed one away from his cheek where it had fallen, and turned his head away from her.  Stiles heard Lydia take a deep breath and felt the soft pressure of her hand on his cheek.  He let her gently turn his head to face her and found compassionate green waiting to comfort him.  The hand in his extricated itself, and she twined her hands around his neck pulling him close to her small body.  Stiles caught her waist and buried his face in her hair.  

“I’m not going anywhere.  I trust you.  I never say that.  But I do.  And I can’t promise to always love you like I do now, but I can promise that I will fight for us.  I’m right here,” Lydia whispered into his ear, cuddling closer to his body.  Stiles pulled back slightly from the hug to look into her face, and then kissed her, slow and smouldering.  Lydia sighed into the kiss and parted her lips to him.  Stiles ran a teasing tongue just inside her upper lip, and Lydia allowed her tongue to tangle with his in a slow, graceful dance.  When they pulled away from each other, both of them were flushed and panting, but glowing with exultation.  

“Let’s go slow,” Stiles suggested.

“Believe it or not, that is the sexiest thing a man has ever said to me before sex,” Lydia giggled.

“Well, I’m a pretty sexy guy,” Stiles joked along, before his face turned serious.  “You know I’m a virgin.  And I want this to be good for you too.  I’m gonna need some help knowing what you like.” 

“Start with a kiss.  And make it a good one,” Lydia commanded.

“You are so sexy when you’re bossy,” Stiles told her before sliding his hand up her back and into her hair and pulling her in for another kiss.  This time, there was no rush or urgency.  Sheriff Stilinski was going to be out all night, and there was only the two of them and the emptiness of hours of bliss stretching before them.  Lydia’s hands slid down from his neck to side his t-shirt up his chest and over his head.  Their kiss was broken for a moment to allow the shirt to pass between them, and it gave Lydia time to rake her eyes over his bare chest.  Lydia had seen Stiles’ bare chest before, but looking at it in the fading yellow lamplight, she saw all the lean muscle from Lacrosse highlighted.  A hurried intake of breath told Stiles that she definitely liked what she saw.

“Someone’s been hitting the weight room,” Lydia said coyly, and the smile that quirked Stiles’ lips in that moment was still in place when she pressed her lips and body against him again.  

 

Stiles had moved away from the wall when his shirt had been removed, and he slowly moved Lydia back towards his bed.  Lydia pulled away from him and pulled her blouse over her head and shimmied out of the jeans she was wearing until she was left standing in only a pale blue, matching underwear and bra set which set off her alabaster skin and stunning hair.  Stiles could only stare at her.  He had seen her in a bikini in the summer (in fact, he had seen her buck naked once before), but this was so much more intimate, because she was willingly revealing herself to him.  Lydia put her hands on her hips and cocked her head as if to say _you like what you see_?  Stiles blinked and swallowed, and forced his head to nod.  Lydia smiled smugly and motioned for him to remove his jeans, which he did without difficulty, chucking them over the back of his chair.  When he turned back to her, Lydia was sprawled on the sheets of his bed alluringly, propped up on her elbows with one leg slightly bent.  Stiles went towards her and placed a knee between her thighs and lowered himself down to kiss her mouth chastely.  Lydia’s back was now on the bed, and Stiles was balanced over her.  Lydia smiled softly up at him, her green eyes hooded with lust.

“Kiss me,” she implored.  Stiles complied.

 

 

***

 

Their kisses had slowly built up until Stiles’ body had been pulled flush against Lydia and her legs were twined around his waist.  Stiles’ arousal was extremely evident at this point, straining against his briefs and rubbing into the heat at the junction of Lydia’s thighs.  Stiles made a particularly hard grind into her, and Lydia let out a long moan, tightening her thighs more than Stiles had thought was possible.  Stiles pulled back from her mouth to switch their positions.  Lydia ended up on top of him, straddling his hips, her breast straining against the lace of her bra as she ground herself into him.  Stiles’ hands wandered up her body and found themselves resting over the clasp.

“Can I?” Stiles asked reverently.  Lydia nodded.  Stiles unhooked the clasp and pulled the straps down Lydia’s shoulders.  The flimsy material fell away from Lydia’s breasts and her nipples immediately pebbled from the slight chill reverberating through the room.  Stiles glanced at her breasts, caressing them with his eyes.  He looked up to Lydia, and-- not seeing any apprehension-- slid a hand up her waist to cup her left breast.  Lydia leaned into his caress, and Stiles stroked her nipple with the pad of his thumb before pinching it slightly in between his fingertips.  Lydia’s sharp intake of breath and her rotation on his hips told him that she was enjoying the pressure, and he mimicked it with his other hand on her right breast.  Lydia leaned forward, halting his motions and pressed her lips lightly to his before running her hand down to where their bodies were pressed together and tugging at the elastic waist of his briefs.  Stiles moved her hands out of the way on the pretence of taking them off, but instead grabbed her hips and flipped them again.  Lydia was on her back and Stiles was lying over her.  Her hands slipped in under the waistband again to caress his ass, and Lydia loved how it felt in her hands, if the whimper she gave was any indication.  Stiles was kissing down her neck as Lydia pushed his briefs out of the way with her hands, and pulled up her legs to push them to his ankles with her feet.  Stiles was naked in front of a woman for the first time since puberty.  He continued down Lydia’s neck and reached her breasts, teasing them with his hands.

“Stiles, If you don’t put your mouth on me soon, I’m going to tell everyone about the whining noise you make when someone sucks-- ooh,” Lydia moaned as Stiles’ mouth touched nipple.  Stiles caressed the areola with his tongue, laving around the nipple in slow, steady circles before taking the nipple between his teeth lightly, and nipping the peak tantalisingly.  He repeated the treatment on her other breast until Lydia was breathing deeply, rutting into him and he could smell her dampness.  Feeling he had teased her enough, he licked quickly down her belly and hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of her underwear before slowly and sensuously flattening his hands against the outside of her thighs and pulling the fabric down to her calves.  Lydia finished the job, kicking them off before opening her thighs and revealing herself to him.  Stiles sucked in a breath.  She looked like a pink, delicate flower.  Her labia were glistening with her slick secretions and there was nothing he could do but stare, his mouth watering.

“Lydia.  Wow.  You’re...  you’re gorgeous,” Stiles whispered to her.  Lydia had been staring at the ceiling, but she lowered her gaze.  Her eyes were slightly glazed with lust.  She gave Stiles a seductive smile.

“Prove it to me, then,” Lydia said, with all the sultriness she could muster and a bite on her lower lip.  Stiles smirked, then, and took her challenge in his stride.  He lowered his mouth to her, and gently swiped his tongue over the bundle of nerves.  Lydia whimpered, and wrapped her calves around his waist, grounding herself, preparing an anchor for when she let go.  Stiles continued his ministrations, and Lydia’s breathing slowly became more laboured.  Stiles put his hours of internet browsing to good use, slowly easing into it by licking around her clitoris before sliding his fingers inside and prodding delicately.  She came undone like she was falling, and Stiles made sure to make the effects last as long as he knew how.  He kissed his way up her body and she kissed him on the mouth when she had recovered.

“Stilinski,” Lydia said, between breaths.  “I don’t know how you just did that, but I assure you that if it continues, you will never have a shortage of women.”

“I only want the one.  But hopefully my skills are good enough for Scarlett Johansson,” Stiles said jokingly.  Lydia smacked his arm and then kissed him breathless.

“You better not be thinking about Scarlett Johansson right now,” Lydia said.

“Scarlett who?” Stiles asked.  Lydia smiled and wrapped her legs around his waist.  Stiles felt his extremely hard penis brush against her warmth.  

“I think it’s time for the condom,” he said, shivering slightly in anticipation.  Lydia smiled.

“Where are they?” she asked.  Stiles reached forward and pulled a box from behind a stack of books on the shelves behind his bed and passed it to Lydia.  She looked inside and frowned slightly.

“It’s half empty.”

“I... Um... I kind of maybe practiced putting one on.  Just in case,” Stiles admitted.  

Lydia smiled and asked, “just one?”  Stiles blushed.

“Well, those things are really hard to put on!  Honestly, I don’t know how people just don’t give up!” he explained, looking flustered.

“Good thing I’m a pro at it, then,” Lydia said.  Stiles flinched slightly at this.  He loved Lydia with every part of him, but the thought that she hadn’t always been his still hurt him.  

“Hey,” Lydia said, catching his face with one of her hands.  “It might not have always been you, but I can’t change my past.  I can, however, enjoy the present.”  Stiles nodded, knowing that he loved every part of her.  Lydia had taken one of the condoms, before placing the box back on his shelving unit and ripping the packaging.  Her hands slid down his stomach, before one tightened around him.  Stiles groaned and bucked his hips slightly.  Even this small pressure felt so unbelievable that he had no idea how he was supposed to hold on.

“Hey!  It’s rude to cum before the condom’s on,” Lydia chided and her hands deftly rolled the small, latex covering down his shaft.

“Sorry,” Stiles breathed, his eyes opening again and staring straight into Lydia’s.  What he saw there was something he had been waiting to see for a long time.  Love.  Stiles raised his hand and caressed her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her lips as he did so.

“I love you.  I know you know, but I wanted you to hear it before we do this.  It’s not just for the sex,” Stiles said, keeping eye contact.  Lydia smiled, one of her rare, true smiles that made her whole face light up, then she leaned forward and kissed him.  Stiles kissed her back with everything he had and lowered his pelvis slightly.  Lydia broke the kiss, and slid a hand in between them, lining him up with her entrance.  As Stiles pushed forward and into Lydia’s slick heat, there was no resistance or pain from her, but the erotic, breathy, “oh!” Lydia gave was more than enough to cinch Stiles’ thought that this was the best night of his life.  The sheer pleasure assaulting the thousands of singular nerve endings on the head of his penis was enough to make Stiles moan, long and low.

“Thank you,” he said to Lydia.  Her eyes were closed, but she smiled and opened them at his words.

“That’s not usually the protocol until after the sex,” she said, poking one of Stiles’ moles.

“I wasn’t talking about the sex.  I’m thanking you for letting me in.  Past the barriers.  For trusting me to see you and not judge you,” Stiles said, and kissed her cheek, before snuggling his face into her neck.  Lydia brought one hand up to stroke his hair.

“You’re welcome.  Now, I don’t know how much googling you’ve done on the actual act of sex, but it involves movement, and if you don’t start soon, I’m going to have to take care of myself,” she said.  Stiles obliged.  It took a few tries, but Stiles eventually found the best way to hit both his and Lydia’s spots.  The first time he pulled back, he pulled all the way out of her, and Lydia had smiled at his obvious embarrassment.  She smoothed her hand through his hair soothingly, and then lifted her hips and helped him to line himself up again.  The second thrust came easier to him, but Lydia still hadn’t given the gasp he was listening for.  In all the research, Stiles had established that if he wanted to make sure that Lydia and he had a mutually pleasurable experience, he was going to have to go above and beyond.  Stiles pulled out once more, but before thrusting back in again, he told Lydia, “wrap your legs around my hips.”  She did, and Stiles rolled his hips forward into her for a third time.  Lydia let out a cross between a gasp and a moan, and Stiles knew that he had done what he needed to do-- activated her G-spot.  Stiles followed up with a succession of similar movements, and it didn’t take long until he was whispering that he was about to come.  Lydia smiled and tangled their tongues together in a scorching kiss.  They came within seconds of each other, Lydia throwing her head back and moaning and Stiles with a grunt of pleasure.  Stiles waited for Lydia’s aftershocks to subside before pulling away from her and removing the condom, tossing it into the bin by his bed and curling around her form.

“You are amazing, Lydia Martin,” Stiles told her, kissing her neck.

“You’re pretty good yourself, Stilinski.  Are you sure you’re a virgin,” Lydia teased, her voice huskier than usual.

“Not anymore,” Stiles said, running his hand up and down her waist.  “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.  Rest assured that I did too.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Lydia asked him, rolling over to face Stiles.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“You seriously think this is over?  Really?  And to think that Scott told Allison that you wanted to have a good time multiple times in many different positions.  Oh well.  I guess we’ll just have to save the rest of the condoms for next time,” she said, turning back around before squealing as Stiles’ hands dug into her waist and pulled her on top of him.  As Lydia straddled his waist and leaned down to kiss him once more it occurred to Stiles that he was probably the luckiest man alive.  This thought reappeared in his mind several times over the next two hours.

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

XV

 

Afterglow

 

Lydia drifted awake.  She couldn’t remember becoming aware, but in her half sleepy state she felt warm and safe.  Muted light played on her eyelids, turning them red and making her see swirling patterns.  Lydia was the kind of person who could doze for hours on end, slipping in and out of dreams.  The only problem was that her pillow was moving up and down rhythmically.  Like breathing.  It was then that the memories of last night came floating back to her.  Lydia didn’t open her eyes, but she could feel her mouth forming a smile at the thoughts going through her head.  Stiles had been better than she had hoped.  Like any virgin, it took time to adjust to the motions and practices that an experienced lover had down, but what Stiles didn’t know he had made up for with instinct... and research.  And-- Lydia thought with a deep sense of satisfaction-- she had come four times.  Lydia opened her eyes to the dim room, her eyelashes brushing against the chest she was lying on.  Stiles was sleeping peacefully, one arm curled around her and the other resting on his stomach.  

 

Lydia knew that she didn’t feel as strongly about Stiles has he did about her.  Stiles had spent years pining over her and she had only really been attracted to him for just over a year.  She had loved him for less than that.  But, still-- there was something about him that made Lydia smile, even when all she wanted to do was yell at him.  She cared about him deeply.  And-- after everything the two of them had been through-- she was more than willing to give him a chance.  There was no one more deserving of an opportunity than Stiles Stilinski.  He had more than proved it to her last night.  Thinking back over the events of the last 12 hours or so, Lydia stifled a giggle but smiled widely into Stiles’ pale chest.  Jackson-- while not at all a prude-- had refused point blank to go down on her.  Stiles had done it twice of his own accord.  And, boy, had she liked it.  He’d obviously done his research well, because all of his techniques-- while just being learned-- were effective.  Little kitten licks that drifted lightly over her clit; long, sweeping strokes that curled her toes; figure eights that hit every spot she had.  Even sucking on her inner labia was a turn on.  Even thinking about it drew her attention back to the delicious ache in her lower extremities.  The deep, strong ache of being fucked multiple times-- all stretched muscle and jellied knees.  Their night last night, though, could not really be called fucking.  Stiles had made nothing but love to her, paying attention to every expanse of skin, every sensitive curve.  Lydia raised her eyes to look at his sleeping face, his eyelashes resting in dark crescents on his cheeks.  Her Stiles.  She was shocked at how the thought came to mind, but once she had time to process it, she knew that she was right.  He was hers.  And he had definitely earned the right to call her his.  Lydia snuggled into his chest again and closed her eyes.  They had hours to sleep yet, and she still needed time to recuperate from last night.

 

***

 

It wasn’t the light that woke her again, but the hand running gently up and down between her shoulder blades.

“Can I tell you something first?” Lydia asked Stiles, sliding her line of sight down to his chest where her fingers were slowly caressing his warm skin.

“Of course,” Stiles said, running his hands through her hair.  Lydia darted her gaze up to his and then resumed tracing his chest.

“I love you too.  And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night, but I was scared.  I’m still scared, if I’m being honest with both of us.  But I trust you, Stiles, so you need to know how I feel,” Lydia felt his long finger under her chin and she met his eyes once more.  A blazing fire burned back at her from his walnut coloured irises so strongly that Lydia thought that if she wasn’t already so wet for him again she might catch alight.  Stiles pressed his lips to hers forcefully, as if he was trying to draw the her love from him out of her body and into his so he could prove it was real.

 

 

***

 

After a long, slow session of loving and a quickie against the tiled wall of Stiles’ shower, Lydia was dressed again, and helping Stiles change his sheets.

“I mean, I would happily sleep on them for the rest of my life just to re-live last night, but-- as much as I hate to even consider this-- Dad knows what sex smells like, and after this morning’s repeat, there is no way in hell he isn’t going to know we slept together,” Stiles explained and he shucked the cases from his pillows.

“It’s okay, Stiles.  I get it.  We’ll just tell him I came over for breakfast,” Lydia soothed.  She was always so mellow after sex.  It was the one thing that left her completely relaxed and ready for anything.  Stiles look up from where he was putting a fresh pillowcase on a pillow, and looked at her.  The shades over his windows were still down, and Stiles was haloed in golden light.  He dropped the pillow and stepped towards her, bringing a hand up and cupping her face.

“You look so thoroughly loved that I just want to have you all over again,” Stiles told her, lightly trailing his thumb over her lower lip.  Lydia smiled up at him, and leaned into his hand.  “I mean it, Lyds.  Every day I’ve wanted to have you, and now that I have I want it even more.”

“I know.  And I love you Stiles Stilinski,” Lydia murmured back, closing her eyes and stepping into his arms.  They stood like that for a few minutes, and then completed their task and heading downstairs for breakfast.  The clock read 9:47 as Stiles pulled spinach and eggs out of the fridge and set to work on frying them up into omelettes.  Lydia handled the toast, coffee and orange juice.  When they sat down to eat, among steaming plates of food and tall glasses of fresh orange juice, Lydia felt a warmth radiating from her that she hadn’t shown since before she’d started High School.  She was laughing at Stiles and wiping tomato ketchup from his chin when the Sheriff walked through the door.

“Well, now.  Good morning Lydia.  This is the second Friday morning in a row that I’ve found you in my kitchen,” he said, giving a stern look to the pair.

“Morning Sheriff.  I know.  I rather think it might be a common occurrence from now on.  Though, rest assured I only got here about an hour ago.  Stiles and I decided to have breakfast together when he dropped me off last night,” Lydia lied smoothly.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Sheriff Stilinski said, looking relieved.  

“Was it a busy night, Dad?” stiles asked his father, trying to distract him from the precarious topic of conversation.

“Not too bad.  A break in downtown and a few drunk kids at that bar on Southport street.  Nothing we couldn’t handle.  I’m going to go and have a shower.  If you’re so inclined, I’d love an omelette when I get back.”

“No problem,” Stiles replied, standing up.  Stiles’ father gave them a tired smile, and then headed out of the room and upstairs.

“I know it should scare me, but I love the fact that you lie so well.  You are going to be an invaluable weapon against my tyrannical father,” Stiles whispered conspiratorially.

“He’s not so bad.  Besides, you should be scared.  If this all ends badly, I’m going to be able to give him all the ammunition he needs to make an example of you,” Lydia replied, her eyes flashing mockingly.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  

“Only you would think to do something that completely diabolical.  Have I told you I love you?” Stiles said, leaning down to give her a chaste kiss.

“Only several hundred times.  But I’ll never get tired of hearing it,” Lydia confessed, kissing him back sweetly.  “Now, I believe we have an omelette to make.”

“You get the eggs, I’ll rinse the pan.”


	16. Chapter 16

XVI

 

Graduation

 

Allison was looking in the mirror of her compact.  Her graduation robe was free of crinkles and stains, and she was making sure her hair wasn’t frizzy and she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth before her father took some photographs.  She and Scott were standing with Stiles and Lydia, who were being doted on by their parents.  Melissa was fussing with Scott’s tie while he tried to ward her off, Stiles and the Sheriff were laughing with Lydia and her mother, and Allison’s father was double checking the exposure settings on his camera.  _So much has changed in a year_ , Allison thought.  And it was true.  After Lydia had left Stiles’ house yesterday afternoon, she had booked over to visit Allison and fill her in on all the details of her newfound sex life and Stiles’ status as a sex god.  Allison chucked at the memory.  She was so glad that two of the best people she knew had finally found their way together and that they were so good for each other.  Lydia was level-headed, but had a tendency to be a bitch if she didn’t get her way or if she was disappointed.  Stiles brought out her good side, and in turn his own hyperactivity was calmed by Lydia’s soothing presence.  They were unequivocally equal in both good and bad, and complemented each other so well that Allison was surprised that the two of them hadn’t figured it out sooner.  _Though_ , she mused, _they are both incredibly dense sometimes, for two people who claim to be geniuses_.

“What are you thinking about?” Scott asked as he slipped his arms around her waist, his mother finally having let him loose from her lecture on tying his tie.  

“Just Stydia,” Allison replied, giving him an uncharacteristically cheeky smile.

“You have not given them a couple name.  You have!  And it sounds like an STI!  That is _so them_!” Scott laughed, tickling her rib cage.  Allison let out a shriek, her laughter burbling out of her.  

“Stop it, Scott,” she whined, gasping for breath.

“Say ‘Scott is the greatest boyfriend in the world, and I promise to never give us a couple name’ and maybe I will,” Scott breathed into her ear, only just audible over her gasping breaths.

“Scott is the greatest boyfriend in the world, and I promise never to use our couple name apart from telling him right now that it’s Scallison,” Allison choked out.  Scotts hands stopped moved on her waist, but before she could catch her breath, he had picked her up and thrown her over his shoulder.

“That is a crime punishable only by being carried around like a sack of potatoes,” Scott told her and started off into the large crowd of students cueing to start to file into the seats provided for the graduates.

 

***

 

“How long do you reckon it’ll be before Allison uses her latent hunter skills and kicks his ass into next week?” Stiles asked her.

“I’m betting five minutes,” Lydia told him, “but I wouldn’t necessarily hold my breath.  She’s been known to be violent when manhandled.  You should have seen what she did to Isaac a couple of years ago.  He looked like Draco Malfoy when Harry used the Sectumsempra spell on him.  It wasn’t pretty.”

“I remember Isaac saying something about that.  Well, maybe she’ll go easy on Scott since, you know, they’re sleeping together and all,” Stiles said doubtfully.  There was a look shared between them, and then the couple burst into laughter so hysterical that it took five minutes to calm them down.  

“Miss Martin.  We need you up at the front for your Valedictorian speech,” the principal called to her.  Lydia replied that she’d be there in a minute before turning back to Stiles and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Want to know a secret?” she asked him.

“I want to know everything about you,” he whispered back to her.  Lydia smiled and shivered inwardly.

“I’m nervous.  Can you even believe that?  I’ve faced down a Kanima, dated werewolves and screamed at death and I’m scared about giving a tiny speech,” Lydia confessed, pulling back slightly and meeting Stiles’ eyes. 

“High School really puts your life in perspective, doesn’t it?” Stiles asked her sardonically.  “Look, Lyds.  I’ve read your speech.  It’s phenomenal, and I personally can’t wait for the rest of the student body to hear it and find out what a sexy genius you are.  But, if you get nervous, just look at me.  I’ll be right there in the audience supporting you, because I love you.”

“I love you too, Stiles.  And that was exactly what I needed to hear,” Lydia smiled at her boyfriend, dimpling.  

“Good.  Now, off with you, Valedictorian.  You have a very important speech to give,” Stiles told her, releasing her waist and squeezing her hand before wandering off to find the ’S’ section of students.  Lydia smiled after him for a second.  In the last few days she was the happiest she remembered being in ages.  Stiles brightened up her world, and she was surprised that her love for him had already strengthened.  She knew it was the chemicals in her body creating a physical bond that tied in to their emotional connections, but Lydia loved it all the same.  She was finally feeling like herself again.  Lydia gave an excited chuckle, and felt for the palm cards in her pocket.  She was about to go and surprise everyone in true Lydia Martin fashion.

 

***

 

“… And now our class Valedictorian Lydia Martin will be presenting her speech.  Please welcome her.”  There were shocked faces all around the room as Lydia ascended the stage.  There was still applause, though, and Stiles clapped along with the rest of their cohort, whistling loudly and smiling straight up at his beautiful girlfriend.  She was waiting patiently while they adjusted the microphone slightly, because she was tiny even in heels.

“Thanks, everyone.  So I know that you all know me.  I’m Lydia Martin.  I wear heels practically all the time.  I’m not afraid to say what I think, even if it hurts people’s feelings.  I’m a little narcissistic.”  A ripple of laughter floated through the crowd, and Lydia gave a beautific smile before continuing.  “But that is all just information about me.  That’s not who I really am.  High School is a really hard place, and I’ve only just begun to realise that I probably made it a lot harder for some of you.  So today I wanted to take some time to rectify that a little.  When you leave Middle School, you have a whole summer of anticipation to stress about who you’re going to be in High School.  Some people get makeovers and become instantly popular.  Others develop acne or decide to spend the summer playing video games with their friends and not caring at all.  But the one thing that none of us do is think about who we’re going to be after school is over.  It doesn’t even occur to us.  Four years is a long time to be herded together in a place where nothing seems to be real, or to matter.”

Lydia took a big breath then, and Stiles could see her hands shaking slightly on the podium.  She met his eyes and her hands steadied.  Stiles nodded at her and mouthed that he loved her.  She gave him a tiny smile and began to speak again.

“We are all leaving this building today with the notion that who we are is set in stone.  But I want you all to know that you don’t have to be what this place made you.  You all thought that I was just some vapid princess for the most part.  But I am technically classified as a genius and I have a full scholarship to study Molecular Biology and Medicine at Stanford University.  And— you’re all going to be completely shocked at this— I am in love with Stiles Stilinski.”

The collective gasp that ricocheted through the audience was incredible.  Lydia laughed out  loud into the microphone and Stiles gave the people staring at him bemused looks.  When the chatter quieted, Lydia read the final sections of her speech.

“Now, I know all the teachers and parents are probably going to be wondering what that has to do with going out into the world.  My answer is this: nothing.  But that’s kind of the whole point.  High School is a time in your life where you are supposed to experiment with who you are.  The thing is, you can’t let it define you.  I’m incredibly lucky to have found someone that accepts who I am no matter what, but we all have time to figure it all out.  We all have bright and beautiful futures to go and live, so don’t let who you were here define who you are there.  Congratulations my fellow graduates.  We’re all going to be amazing.  I know it.  And I’m a genius, so you know I’m right!”  

Stiles was the first on his feet, followed by Scott and Allison in their respective places in the crowd.  Lydia waved to the student body before accepting her diploma and exiting the stage.  The principal began to call out names, and the senior class graduated, one by one.  Allison was clapped first out of the remaining friends, followed by Scott and finally Stiles.  And then it was over.  The four friends converged on each other, hugging and laughing.

“I can’t believe it’s finally over!” Allison exclaimed, hugging Lydia tightly.

“I can.  Now I can finally take some challenging courses,” Lydia laughed, returning the embrace before capturing Stiles’ hand.  He smiled down at her.

“We better go and see our parents.  They’re probably dying to get some more photos,” Scott said, grimacing.  Allison smiled and pulled him away, leaving Stiles and Lydia alone.  Stiles untangled his hand and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“So, Martin.  What now?”

“Right now?  Probably photographs and a party to get ready for.”

“I meant after school.  Have you got plans for after the summer?  I hope you’re not going to let anything define you.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, you started it!  You were a regular Obama.  Really inspiring.  But you still didn’t answer my question.”

“Well, Stilinski, I believe we have a University to conquer.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's all, folks! I hope you enjoyed it :)


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